


If You Can't Get Out and You Can't Let Go

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Blowjobs, M/M, Misunderstandings, handjobs, personal assistant au, unrequited feelings, work crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Personal Assistant AU in which Pete starts his new job assisting rising star Patrick Stump. There's only one problem – Patrick doesn't really want a personal assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written mostly as a way to stay sane while recovering from many chest infections and pneumonia last year. 
> 
> Thanks to Jiksa for cheerleading as well as help and encouragement. More thanks to Immoral Crow for the massive amount of beta work needed on this, as well as lots of cheerleading.
> 
> Title is from Beatsteaks / Let's see.

“I’m quitting.”  
“Pete,” Mikey says down the phone. “It’s Sunday evening. Why would you make the decision to quit right now?” He sounds nothing but relaxed, and Pete’s sure that’s the way most people are on a Sunday evening. Pete is nowhere near relaxed, though. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  
“Try me. Isn’t Monday morning a more normal time to re-evaluate your job, though?”

“Normal?” Pete scoffs. “Fucking normal is not what my job is.” He’s had normal jobs, _perfectly_ normal. A Personal Assistant is a normal job…usually, but this one swerved left of normal a while ago. 

“What’s the latest request?”  
“Well, Mikes. That would be the reason I’m going to quit. I’m currently on my way to fucking Tijuana to pick her up.”  
“Right now?"  
“Yes,” Pete says through gritted teeth.  
“Can’t she get home by herself?” 

Pete pauses, because the answer is that she can. But Pete cares about his job, he always cares too much, even if his boss is driving his driving him both crazy and into the ground. He’s also not going to leave her stranded somewhere, because he’ll feel bad if she winds up dead because she tries to walk home or something, even if that would negate his need to quit.

“She can, probably. But I’m on my way because I’m a sucker. Then I’m going to quit,” he says, then feels a wave of drama wash over him and continues, “and then I'll have no job and no money and I'll come live in your garage until I die.”

“Or you can send me your resumé and I can send it to my friend Frank. He runs an agency for assistants, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’s like assistants for celebrities and high profile people, right? It could be kind of demanding.”

Mikey chuckles a little. “Are you seriously thinking you couldn’t handle something like that after working for that girl for the last nine months? Because it sounds like you could do it with your eyes closed. And one hand tied behind your back.”

“I guess. I’m surprised she hasn’t actually asked me to do that already.” It wouldn’t be a million miles away from some of the tasks he’s been asked to do up until this point. 

Pete used to work as a corporate PA, and that’s where he cut his teeth in the industry, learned the ropes. It was often demanding, but usually they were nine-to-five roles that actually stayed like that, meaning he never had to bring work home with him or work out of hours. It was nice and all, but on a whim he decided to branch out and move sideways into a role that was less assistant and a bit more _butler_ , as an assistant to a wealthy investment banker, but outside of office based duties like filing and photocopying. It was interesting to say the least and Pete’s skills expanded tenfold when he was sent on errands for unusual things, asked to book tables at exclusive and already booked out restaurants, had to deal with mistresses, grown up tantrums and a handful of other things he never thought he’d have to deal with as an assistant. He took them in his stride though, used them as a learning experience. 

From there he worked for a couple of other people, and then he moved to his current role as an assistant to an heiress who he assumed would be a cinch after working for such other demanding people. He was proved wrong, very wrong. 

"She has so much fucking money she could hire a fleet of cars to pick her up-"  
"I know," Pete sighs. He'd thought that about ten minutes after leaving his comfy couch where he'd been sitting in his pyjamas.  
"And yet she calls you. She knows you won't say no." At least Mikey doesn't sound amused. He's patiently listened to all of Pete's whining about his job lately, and he's often amused by the crazy tasks she makes Pete do like the little costumes for her dog she sends Pete to pick out, the nail polish she convinces him try on his toes before she tries it herself, the times he’s had to hold her hair back while she vomited after a heavy night out. Obviously, Mikey being a decent friend means that he's picked up on Pete's desperation, his exhaustion, and is keeping his mouth shut this time. Bravo to him.

"Which is why I need to quit. I'm not a personal assistant anymore. I'm a fucking lackey."  
"Send me your resumé then."

Pete has pride. Maybe not right now, but he usually does. "Yeah, but I need to get a job on my own. Nepotism is fine and all, but I'd like to know I earned it."  
"Oh, you'll have to. Frank's a hard-ass, he won’t just give you a job because I say you’re a good dude. I'll pass on your details, but he’ll only employ you if he’s sure you're capable. He has some really high profile clients on his books."

"Like the Pope?" Pete jokes, the tiny ray of hope at the thought of a new job brightening his gloomy drive from LA to Mexico.  
"Yep. I hear the Pope is looking for anew PA. You want to move to the Vatican?" Now Mikey does sound amused, though Pete is thankful for it.

"It might be better than driving to Mexico on a Sunday night. I wouldn’t mind if I was actually supposed to be working today, or if I was doing anything other than picking up her sorry ass." He stares into the distance and follows the tail lights of the car ahead of him. A new start is a good idea, and really Mikey is right, Pete could handle any sort of pissy celebrity after doing this job without going crazy. "Alright," he concedes. "I'm in. I'll email you in the morning."

"Good to hear it. Enjoy the rest of your night, Pete. Bring me back a souvenir?"  
"Buenas noches, Mikey."

 

*

Pete has worked as a personal assistant for a variety of people during his career so far. 

 

The purely corporate, office-based roles were fine and quite enjoyable at the time, but he’s learned so much working as a personal assistant in the roles he’s had since then. These sort of roles generally involved a lot more of Pete running around the city collecting things, walking dogs, organising transport, while still managing all calls and appointments. Pete enjoys the challenge, and most of his bosses have been quite good to work for. The heiress had been an exception, and although her requests had become ridiculous, his conversation with Mikey made him realise he could PA with his eyes closed for anyone even remotely rational. 

He’s been asked to do some strange things over the years. Things like holding the hair back for a very drunk client’s mistress while she vomited, dealing with incredibly sensitive paperwork that could easy ruin a life, collecting prescription medication, even trawling through the city looking for an exact shade of lipstick that’s been discontinued for years became normal occurrences and Pete’s surprised by how little they surprise him now. He’s seen it all, he knows he can handle it all, be it mundane, routine duties or the odd and interesting stuff. 

And yet, somehow his brand new employer, this Soul Punk dude, is getting right the fuck under his skin. Pete prides himself on his ability to be (mostly) professional, to get the job done, to get on with it, and this little shit with nerdy glasses shouldn’t be getting the better of him, even if he looks cute when he’s grumpy. 

Patrick Stump is a music producer and performing artist that Pete’s heard of, but never paid all that much attention to until he’s told that Patrick will be who he’s working with. Thinking it a good idea to do a little research, Pete downloads everything he can get his hands on, and then spends some time browsing the internet. 

From this, Pete learns two things; firstly that Patrick is an incredibly talented man with the voice of an angel, and secondly, that Patrick has a very loyal and devoted fanbase. Both of these are good to know, and Pete always does his homework when he’s starting to work for a new person. 

The incredible talent means that Patrick is becoming more and more sought after, and that means increased pressure and a full schedule. The large fanbase will mean discretion, possibly even increased security. It’s nothing that fazes Pete in the slightest. 

Pete also learns that Patrick is a very good-looking guy…if you’re into guys with cherubic looks, with skin like pale silk, creamy and pure, and a mouth that --okay Pete shouldn’t be thinking about his employer’s mouth, but it’s pretty amazing. Pete can appreciate it, objectively of course.

But all of that, all of the talent and good looks mean nothing, because Patrick Stump is not so pleasant in real life.

Their first meeting doesn’t go so well. 

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” Patrick says to Pete. It’s his first sentence, not even a perfunctory _Hello_. His tone is matter of fact rather than rude, but Pete’s eyes go wide. “I don’t need an assistant.” 

“You do. Of course you do,” his manager says, and there’s a nervous laugh in his voice like he knew Patrick was going to say that and he’s trying to cover it up so that Patrick doesn’t appear rude.

“I don’t.”

Pete stays quiet, not really sure what to do. He’s never worked for someone who didn’t actually want him to be there. He looks to Patrick’s manager for a cue, or some indication of if he should be heading for the door, if this has been a mistake. He feels like he’s walked into the middle of an argument, and it’s not something that he really wants to get involved in. All Pete wants to know is if he’s supposed to be here or if the agency needs to assign him to a different person.

“Sorry, Pete,” the manager guy says. “Excuse us for just a second.”

Pete tries not to listen, tries not to look, so that maybe some of the awkwardness might dissipate. Patrick and his manager talk in whispers, and eventually there’s an audible, “Fine!” from Patrick. It doesn’t sound like agreement, more like concession, like Patrick can’t be bothered to argue.

It's nowhere near what a first meeting what a boss should be, and Pete feels deflated after it.

So Pete begins his new employment for a man who doesn’t actually want him there, which is...fine. It does make things a little difficult, though. How does Pete assist if Patrick doesn’t want assistance? 

Pete’s first day is spent mostly hanging around in the studio that Patrick is working in. It’s boring, and time goes slowly, but Pete has done worse. 

Normally when he starts in a new role, he gets handed over a file containing any and all information relating to his duties, from email passwords to coffee orders to a great big diary filled with scheduled appointments to manage. Here, he’s only gotten a vague schedule so far, but not much more. There was no previous assistant, so Pete is starting from the ground up, and Patrick is not exactly forthcoming with information seeing as he’s mostly pretending that Pete is invisible.

Pete could go back to Patrick’s management and try to pry more information from them to help him get on with it, but that feels like tattling on Patrick. Pete doesn’t like to admit when he’s struggling even though that’s what it feels like at the beginning. He’s also pretty sure that if he snitches on Patrick and says that he’s not being helpful it will start their already turbulent relationship off on a very wrong foot.

Patrick doesn’t give him anything to do; no errands, no little jobs, no fucking groceries to pick up, nothing. He yearns for an excursion, maybe a mission to find a very unusual brand of dog shampoo, or maybe sushi from a tiny Japanese place that doesn’t actually do take-out. Something.

Patrick even leaves the studio without telling Pete, and comes back with a coffee in his hand and not a single word in Pete’s direction. 

Pete thinks maybe that’s Patrick game; wait it out. If Patrick ignores him then Pete will just go back to his agency and request another placement. And that might work on some people, but Pete is a stubborn bastard, stubborn enough to not let Patrick ignore him. It’s frustrating, because Pete can see already that Patrick has a lot to keep up with. Most people would be grateful for the help, and his management have hired Pete on his behalf, meaning they are footing the bill; it’s free help for Patrick if he would just pull his finger out and ask for the help he’s being offered.

“I could have gotten that for you,” he says to the back of Patrick’s head. Patrick has his laptop open on at the studio console.  
“I can get my own coffee,” Patrick says, still not turning around. Pete resists rolling his eyes, but only barely.  
“I know you can, but that’s my part of job.”  
“It’s fine.” Patrick throws him a look that’s hostile enough that Pete wonders if he’s wasting his breath. “Look, I’m busy, okay?”

And there’s Pete’s way in. “You’re busy? Great. That’s where I come in. I am an _assistant_. I _assist_. So, you have things you don’t have time to do?” Patrick goes to say something, and Pete cuts him off. “And I mean besides talking to me. You have errands? Dry cleaning to be picked up? Groceries? Phone calls to be made. Use me for those? Kinda why I’m here.” 

Patrick tap tap taps away at his keyboard, still seemingly ignoring Pete, but then he sighs, and Pete knows he’s won today’s battle.

“Fine. I need some things picked up. There’s an artist across town who has samples of work that we might use for the next record. My manager wanted me to see them, but he hasn’t organised for them to be sent over yet. You can go pick them up if you want? Otherwise I’ll get them myself later.”  
“Great. And after that?”

Patrick glares at him.

“Okay, let’s just start with that. Anything else you need, you have my number, text me.”

Pete doesn’t hold his breath considering Patrick’s reluctance, but he’s pleased he’s broken the ice so easily. All Patrick needed was a little push to get the ball rolling.

His feeling of success pours itself right down the toilet when he gets back to the studio after picking up a huge folder containing a wide selection of artist’s samples and Patrick has left for the day. 

The studio receptionist tells Pete that Patrick had some stuff to do and that he’ll be back tomorrow at the crack of noon. Pete gives her a tight lipped smile. Okay, not so easy after all.

The following day, Pete comes prepared. He arrives at the studio just before midday with a coffee and a Danish pastry for Patrick from the adorable coffee shop on the corner. He places the cardboard cup and the paper bag beside the console where Patrick sat yesterday so that he _has_ to see it when he comes in. 

And Patrick does see it, though he’s already got a cup of coffee in his hand. He makes a face when he sees it, and doesn’t so much as look at Pete who sits in the corner waiting on instruction, though when Patrick finishes his coffee he starts on the one Pete brought him. The pastry goes untouched, but it feels like another step in the right direction.

Pete’s spinning on his chair hours later, bored to tears and beginning to hope Patrick will send him home if here’s nothing to do today, when he hears his name. It’s not Patrick calling him though, it’s Travie McCoy who Patrick has been working with the past few days.

“It’s Pete, right?”  
“At your service.” Pete gives Travie a little mock salute.

“Do you want a coffee? I’m heading out.”

Pete makes a face. That makes no sense. Surely it should be Pete that’s going to go pick up coffee. “I’ll go.”  
“Naw, dude. It’s fine.”  
“Seriously, though. If Patrick doesn’t mind or doesn’t have anything else for me to do, can I go?”

Patrick shrugs like he couldn’t care any less. 

Pete is so grateful to _finally_ have something to do, and he organises a lunch run as well as a coffee run. When he returns to the studio, Travie has somehow convinced Patrick to delegate more things for Pete to do. Pete is used to organising far more than Starbucks, but after a day and a half of doing fuck all he’s nothing short of thrilled to have two things to do; collect paperwork from Patrick’s agent and reserve a table for dinner for Patrick and a selection of people he’s been in the studio with this week.

By the time that Pete is back at the studio again, Patrick is gone, though Pete suspected he would be. Travie is still there though, and he has a sympathetic smile for Pete.

“Patrick doesn’t want a personal assistant.”  
Pete laughs. “No kidding.”  
“But he needs one.”  
“Yeah, I’m not sure about that yet. Usually I get a workload when I start, a diary to manage, or at least a list of tasks. He’s giving me nothing to work with.”  
“I can help you with that. He’s busy and getting busier. His star is on the rise, he’s getting booked for more and more things. He says he can get everything done, and maybe he can. But I can tell you the things he never gets time for, and if you push him on those, he’ll give in. He’s stubborn but you can break him, man.”

"Sounds good. Anything I can do to help him, otherwise my being here is kinda pointless.”  
“I think the biggest reason his manager wanted him to have a personal assistant is because he’s constantly missing phone calls. If you can get him to hand over his phone you’ll know about things before he does-“  
“Which makes it easier to get them done. Got it. Thanks, dude.”

Pete’s relieved. It’s a plan that might work. He’s happy to work for Patrick if he’s actually doing something with his time, even if it feels like pulling teeth at the moment. If Patrick insists on ignoring him continuously, then Pete will concede and go back to his agency to look for a new placement, but Pete hates quitting, and there’s something about Patrick that makes Pete not want to give up.

Armed with a list of things that Patrick is apparently always complaining he doesn’t have time to do, and an end game of somehow getting his hands on Patrick’s phone, he hopes he next days will be a little easier. And they are, but only because Pete practically forces his services on Patrick, nagging and nagging for something to do, prodding him for a task.

Finally, _finally_ , in what feels like a fit of frustration, Patrick hands Pete a list of a half dozen things that need to be done. 

Pete is all over them even if it’s not much to do. He’s determined to show Patrick how efficient he is so that he can on with more tasks and maybe even get his hands on Patrick’s diary, or, of course, his phone. Pete rarely sees Patrick on the phone other than texting or maybe checking emails, but he’s sure that Patrick must be missing tons of calls and emails.

Pete does get some more things that need to be done over the next few days, though Patrick still seems so reluctant to accept Pete as his assistant. Every single task has to be painstakingly pulled from him, and Pete would feel bad for being irritating, but apparently that actually works as a tactic. He still hasn’t managed to pry Patrick’s entire schedule from him, so all he has is a skeleton version of it from Patrick’s management. Pete knows that by now that schedule will be looking very different considering how busy Patrick seems. 

After being sent on an afternoon errand and coming back to an empty studio and not a word from Patrick yet again, Pete snaps.

The following morning he shows up early enough to catch Patrick alone.

“Look,” Pete starts. “I get that you don’t think you need an assistant and that’s just fine. But your manager has hired me for a month at least, so if you would be so kind as to stop treating me like a bad date that you’re trying to ditch, and give me some work to do, we’ll get along a little better. You’re obviously busy. I’m here to help you, _assist_ you.”

Patrick stares grumpily at the console without saying a word, and the tension remains hanging between them. 

Pete momentarily regrets his decision to face things as head on as he did. Pete and his big mouth. Pete and his temper. Pete and his inability to shut the fuck up. Pete and his unknown reason for why Patrick is getting to him.

But Pete’s worry about putting his size nines in it dissipates when Patrick says, “Fine,” a lot less sullenly than expected.

“I have a thing in New York at the end of next week,” Patrick continues, though Pete knows this. It’s several interviews, and a photoshoot amongst other things. It’s part of the stark schedule that Pete was already given, and it will be the first time that Pete will be travelling with this job. He’s been worrying how the hell he’s supposed to go to New York when Patrick doesn’t want him there, though. “I have some things I need to get organised before I go.” He pauses as he checks something on his laptop. “Before we go,” he says, and unless Patrick is fond of referring to himself as the Royal We, Pete’s won this battle, even if he’s still fighting the war.

“Great. What’s first?” Pete says, trying not to sound too smug, though _Wheee! This feels like a victory!_

Pete feels like punching the air when Patrick finally hands over a phone, and it’s not even the phone that he sees Patrick fiddling with from time to time, it’s a separate phone with many, many missed calls and unanswered emails, a phone that Patrick must have been hiding and ignoring for days at a time. 

It’s Pete’s responsibility now. He can look after it, and if he’s not mistaken there’s a hint of relief on Patrick’s face as he hands it over, and there’s the same wash of relief when Pete hears Patrick utter the words, “Yes, If you just call my assistant he’ll be able to organise that.”

*

Over the next few days, Patrick begins to let Pete actually help him, though Pete thinks there’s still an element of Patrick being too busy and too tired to keep fighting, rather than he’s suddenly accepting that he has someone to help him. 

The day before they travel to New York, Pete is over at Patrick’s rented house. He has various things to drop off including paperwork and dry cleaning, and there’s a final run though of Patrick’s itinerary. 

“I’ve never had a Personal Assistant before,” Patrick says out of nowhere.  
“No? Personal Assistant virgin?”  
“Something like that,” he says. “I’m not really used to asking people to do things for me. It feels strange.” Patrick doesn’t take his eyes from his laptop, but even without any eye contact, he sounds like he’s being honest.  
“I can understand that,” Pete says, and he thinks he can. He’s always been the assistant, never really the other way around even if he’s had to manage other people from time to time. “I imagine it’s hard at the start. Don’t feel weird about asking me to do stuff, fetch and carry, organise things, whatever. It’s my job.”

“It’s still strange. I’m used to doing things for myself.”

“That’s fine. Ease yourself in if you want. Just remember that I’ve been doing it for years and there’s not much you can ask for that I haven’t had to do before.”

“It’s not that,” Patrick says. “Well, not just that.” He pauses while he flicks between browser windows. “I’m a pretty private person, and it feels a little uncomfortable to let a stranger like, follow me around and see my life and whatnot. So I’ve probably been acting like a dick since you started, and I hope you haven’t been taking it personally. It’s just been a little hard.” He shrugs and it finally clicks for Pete. Of course Patrick is reluctant to let Pete into his life. They don’t know each other and Pete was hired for him, and it appears against Patrick’s consent. Patrick looks a little twisted up like it was difficult to admit, and Pete feels like a monster for all the silent eye rolls he’s done behind Patrick’s back when Patrick shunned him.

“I get it, I do. Look, I’m not looking to nose into your private life. I understand that it’s hard to have someone new up in your business all day, especially when things are so busy for you and the industry is how it is. If all else fails, and I accidentally find out all of your dirty secrets, you know I signed a confidentiality agreement, right? Your life is none of my business unless you want it to be.”

Patrick doesn’t look convinced.

“I’ve had some interesting bosses before. I could tell you all about the adventures of the heiress I worked for previously. Accept that I _can’t_ because of non-disclosure. I’m not going to laugh at your life. I’m not going to stick my nose in it. I’m not going to pry or tell anyone about anything.”

Patrick shrugs. “Okay. My life is nowhere as adventurous as that of an heiress, so I don’t think that will be a problem. But I think I get it.”

That conversation, simple and short as it is, clears the air and makes things easier between them, and Pete pretends he doesn’t want to smack Patrick for not being this honest from the outset. It would have made everything very different.

Pete’s done plenty of travelling before; on his own, with friends, with his band back all those years ago, and with bosses too, though those were almost all short business trips. Travelling with Patrick is different. 

It’s not quite like on TV; there’s no entourage, it’s just the two of them, but it feels different to corporate travelling, and Pete enjoys the luxury and extra leg-room in the first class section (even if neither he nor Patrick actually need any extra leg-room).

Obviously travelling as a Personal Assistant means Pete needs to be organised, not just for himself, but for another person too. That’s not a problem though, and both their flight and hotel transfers go smoothly. After that Patrick is whisked off and Pete has a full afternoon errands to run while Patrick has talks with his management company before they meet up again.

*

Pete watched a few Youtube clips of Patrick on stage during his initial research, and he was impressed. The way that Patrick commands the attention of everyone in the audience is quite something; this little guy with a big voice and bigger talent is a force to be reckoned with. And while he’s not playing stadiums or arenas (yet), he acts like he’s playing both to the world, and to each and every member of the audience individually.

His stage clothes are a mix of classic cut suits and smart-casual, depending on the night, the venue and his mood apparently. And according to the internet, for a Halloween show, he wore a full devil costume complete with red suit, bow-tie and devil horns, which is intriguing to say the least. 

It’s a huge contrast then, to see Patrick looking so nervous before this show. He paces back and forth, guitar slung over his shoulder and he wrings his hands looking anxious. Pete sits in the corner trying to look busy, trying not to get in the way while Patrick runs through his vocal warm ups from start to finish. He tries really hard not to stare at Patrick for the wonders coming out of his mouth that were simple vocal exercises. Then Patrick goes back to pacing, looking every bit as nervous as he did before his warm ups. 

He looks wound up, and the clock is ticking down. The stage manager has called a ten minute warning for curtain call.

“You need a minute?” Pete offers. He feels the need to say something.  
Patrick looks at him blankly like Pete just asked him the square root of Pi. “What? Uh, yeah. Just-“ He points in the general direction of _over there_ and goes back to pacing.

“Anything I can do to help?” Because it’s worth a try.  
Patrick looks wide-eyed again and there’s a hint of something around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he says. “Distract me.”

“Distract you,” Pete says. Sure thing. He can do that. He racks his brain trying to think up a few of the best-worst jokes he’s heard recently. “I can tell you bad jokes? A sandwich walks into a bar and orders a beer. Bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve food here.’”

It’s terrible, not even funny, and Patrick doesn’t really react with anything more than a little frown. 

Pete tries again. “I used to have a job at a calendar factory, but I got the sack because I took a couple of days off.”

Patrick’s smile is a fraction of his usual one, though he looks like he’s humouring Pete for trying rather than he’s actually amused by the stupid unfunny joke.

 

One more then. “What did the egg say to the hot water? I just got laid by a chick so it might take me a minute to get hard.” 

Patrick shakes his head this time, but there’s a decent sized smile and it looks half-real. “That’s fucking awful, Pete.”

“I know,” Pete grins. “That’s my favourite one.”

Patrick looks distracted from his stage fright, the angle of his neck and shoulders different, his stance slightly looser than before, the set of his jaw looks more relaxed. It’s a relief for Pete too, he doesn’t know Patrick all that well but Pete wants to help, and he’s so glad that his stupid unfunny jokes helped even a tiny bit. He finds himself staring at Patrick, at the little bit of ease that’s replaced the panic, and he tries to think of another stupid joke, but he just watches the flecks of blue in Patrick’s eyes dance in the lighting.

There’s a one minute curtain call and it snaps Pete back to the moment. He can hear the concern in his own voice as he asks, “You good?” and he’s wondering if he’s overstepping his mark. Personal assistant is fine, but he’d said to Patrick that he’d stay out of his business, and comforting him in a moment of panic feels a little intimate.

“Yeah, it’s just a bit of stage fright.”  
“Well, if you get any more while you’re out there, just know that I’ll be standing back here watching and making a list of all the worst jokes that I can think of. If you need to, like, take a minute to run backstage and I’ll read you one out, okay?”  
“No need for that,” Patrick says dismissively. “But thanks.” And the _thanks_ sounds so warm and genuine that Pete forgets to breathe for a second.

Then Patrick’s gone, straightening his fedora, stretching his arms over his head like he’s trying to limber up. Pete watches him go until he’s disappeared onto the stage and he’s swallowed up by the roar of his rapturous fans.

The next morning is the very first time that Pete has to wake Patrick for an early morning pick up. After years of insomnia, and more years spent working hard on his anxiety to fix said insomnia, Pete is now good at early mornings. This helps when he has to beat someone out of bed and be ready before they are.

The night before was Patrick’s show of course, so Pete knows it was a late night. Pete was utterly blown away by Patrick’s live show, and the clips he’d watched on Youtube don’t even begin to compare to the real thing; from the heat in the venue driving steam off the audience and band, to the wall of noise and communal sing-alongs. It was amazing and one of the best shows Pete has even been to (and that’s even considering the fact that his view of Patrick was partially obscured because Pete was side-stage rather than out front). 

The fact remains though that even if he knows Patrick is going to be tired this morning, it’s Pete’s job to ensure that he is up and ready for the car that’s coming for them at seven o’clock. Pete knocks on Patrick’s door and waits, but there’s no answer and not a single sound from the room. He looks up and down the empty hallway, sticks his hands in his pockets, and waits another minute or so. He knocks again and there’s still no reply, and when he looks down to check if there’s any light coming though the gap under the door there’s nothing.

Pete checks his watch. If Patrick doesn’t open up and get a move on soon, he’s likely to be late, and considering it’s part of Pete’s _job_ to make sure that Patrick gets to his engagements on time, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

He knocks again, and then he fishes his wallet out of his pocket. He has a keycard for Patrick’s room from when he dropped Patrick’s bag up for him last night. It’s possible that this is overstepping his boundaries - it’s hard to know because Pete hasn’t worked for Patrick for very long yet - but if Patrick misses this interview, it’s also possible that Pete’s job might be on the line.

Pete knocks a fourth time and then slides the card into the lock. He knocks yet again as he tentatively opens the door an inch. The room is pitch dark, so Pete calls out. He doesn’t want to scare Patrick or catch him unawares - and Pete has caught some of his past clients completely unawares and in compromising situations so he knows to be careful.

Pete calls out again, and this time there’s a muffled groan from somewhere inside the depths of the darkness. 

“Patrick?”  
“Hmm?”  
“The car is coming to pick you up in a half hour. Just wanted to make sure you’re awake?” _And alive. And that you’re even attempting to put on clothes so that your manager doesn’t de-ball me._  
“Hmph.”

Pete waits. He’s still at the door, still unsure about actually entering the room.

“So, are you getting up now? Will I go pick you up a coffee while you shower?”

There’s a minute of silence and then the door opens in front of Pete. Patrick stands there squinting at the light of the hallway. He’s wearing pyjama pants with ninja turtles on them which are _awesome_ , and a shirt that looks like it’s seen the laundry so many times it may not survive another wash. Pete hides a smile because it’s always a wonderful experience to see a client in this sort of unguarded state for the first time.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Pete can’t help himself. “You didn’t answer my check-in texts so I wasn’t sure if you were awake. Pick up is at seven sharp.”  
“Morning.”  
“So you need a coffee? Pastry? Toast? Morning paper? Something else?” 

Patrick scratches his head, and his hair is already sleep rumpled, but he makes it stick up even more. “Just a coffee. Extra shot.” He seems to realise he’s standing almost in the hallway in his pyjamas, and he closes the door a little more. “I’ll see you in the lobby.”

“Great.” Pete checks his watch again. “Twenty five minutes okay.”

Patrick makes an unintelligible noise as Pete walks away. 

“Nice jim-jams,” Pete says under his breath as he hears the door click behind him. He pushes down the thought that Patrick quite obviously had morning wood as he presses the button for the elevator and begins to check off his mental list of things for the morning. 

Wake-up calls become a regular occurrence. It turns out that Patrick Stump is utterly useless at dealing with mornings. If for any reason Patrick has to be awake before midday, Pete has his work cut out for him, and the earlier the time, the worse it is. Patrick seems to keep late hours, working away until he can no longer create or mix or compose, pouring over his laptop or guitar. Some nights he’s up so late that he doesn’t even wake when Pete’s knocks, so Pete has to step up his game.

If Patrick is at home and Pete is picking him up, Pete choses to be obnoxious and hold his finger on the buzzer until Patrick answers. One morning this takes four solid minutes of buzzing, and that day Patrick shoots Pete murderous looks long into the morning. Pete takes it on the chin though because it worked and Patrick is perfectly on time for his meeting with his record company. 

He limits it to two door knocks for hotel rooms, obviously not wanting to wake the entire corridor just to prove a point, and on the third knock he usually opens the door a crack to check he’s not walking in on anything. When Patrick still doesn’t answer, Pete enters the room. 

After too many mornings of Pete having to verbally prod and poke Patrick to wake up, Pete’s learned that there’s a much easier way.

“Motherfuck! What’s wrong with you? Too much daylight!” Patrick is a lump in the bed, and he turns and squirms to get the light out of his eyes as Pete peels back the curtain. Pete lets go of the second of the two heavy black out curtains. There’s enough daylight to kill a vampire now, or wake a Patrick.

“Sorry, Patrick. I know it’s harsh, but you ignored my morning wake-up texts, and I’ve knocked a whole bunch of times. You’ve got twenty minutes to be ready, so get in the shower.”  
“Fuck. Come on, man.” Patrick sounds pissed this time, and Pete stops dead with his hand still on the curtain, unsure if he overstepped his mark.

“I’m cruel. But if you miss this flight your manager will be far crueler. Up and at it!”

Patrick mutters something that sounds like _I need an assistant that’s not an asshole_ as he sits up and rubs his eyes, and Pete rolls his eyes behind Patrick’s back but it doesn’t faze him at all. He’s used to clients getting mad at him when they have to do things that they don’t want to do, and he’s learned by now to take most of Patrick’s grumpiness with a pinch of salt. (And Patrick’s grumpiness is kind of adorable, especially in today’s Pokémon pyjamas.)

“You can request another assistant if you wish, but how ‘bout we do that _after_ you’re showered and dressed because you have about seventeen minutes to get ready now. So go shower and I’ll go look for another job while I pick you up a coffee.”

Patrick makes a vaguely annoyed zombie-like groan as he pads off to bathroom.

When Pete greets him in the lobby - with one minute to spare before the car picks them up - he’s a little less hostile. And once they’re halfway to the airport and half of his latte has been downed, he’s looking more human.

“You don’t need to look for another job,” he says, shamefaced. Pete wasn’t all that worried. He’s dealt with worse than that over much less.  
“Good to know. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.” Though Pete has to learn a new set of boundaries for each client and sometimes they get mixed up. “I just thought - It’s an important flight for you.”  
“It’s fine,” Patrick says, though he’s still a little curt. “It was a late night. I’m working on something. Travie McCoy sent me a demo and see if I can improve on it, and I just -- time escaped.”  
“I totally understand that. I don’t care if you’re mad at me for waking you. It’s part of my job. I’m used to it.”

Patrick gives him a very small, sympathetic smile. “Thank you,” he says, and then, “I’ll work on my morning attitude.”  
“Nah, I’m getting used to your diva attitude,” he teases, and from Patrick’s tiny smile Pete knows it’s broken some more of the tension. “And like I said, it’s part of my job.”

Patrick looks like he’s going to say something else, but then the car stops and they’re ushered into the airport and the moment is gone.

*

“For fuck sake,” Patrick swears. Pete can instantly see why. There’s a dirty looking brown stain down the front of his shirt where his hot chocolate has dripped. “Fucking leaking cup.”

Pete’s on his feet right away because this might be a problem. There’s about ten minutes before Patrick has to do a live performance, and there’s no way there’s time to get him a new shirt from his hotel room. There’s a chance that Pete can run to wardrobe and raid it for anything suitable, but even that is cutting it close. 

“Can you just wear a jacket over it?”  
“I’d have to zip the jacket up to cover it, and then-“  
“You’ll be too warm out there.” Pete tries to think what else could possibly help. “Do you have a sticker or a button to cover it?”  
“What am I, five? Nope, no stickers.”

Patrick looks worried and more than a little flustered. Pete has never had to do press or live performances like Patrick does, but he can imagine it might be unnerving. If Patrick has to do it feeling even more self-conscious than normal because of a dirty shirt, then Pete needs to help him any way he can, so fuck it. “We take about the same size shirt. Switch with me.” Pete has a perfectly fine clean and wearable shirt right in this room, it just happens to be on his own back.  
“What? No!”

But Pete is already peeling off his flannel overshirt and pulling his t-shirt off before Patrick can protest any further. “It’s no big deal. Just a shirt,” Pete says, though he’s starting to feel a little silly, bare-chested and with his balled up shirt in hand, especially because Patrick just stares at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide like a bunny in the headlights. Pete couldn’t just leave him stranded though, it doesn’t seem fair.

Patrick takes it, reluctantly, because really he doesn’t have all that much of a choice what with the clock ticking down and there being zero other options. “Thanks. Really. You’ve saved me from looking like I slept in a dumpster.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Pete grins. “Go. Change. You’ve like, five minutes. And I’m confiscating your hot chocolate and keeping it for myself. No one cares if I look filthy.”

Pete starts to pull his flannel back on. He buttons it this time, ushering Patrick towards the bathroom to change as he does, and Patrick doesn’t have the chance to utter another word. Pete might not give a second thought to whipping his shirt off in the green room on a television studio, but he also knows that that’s one of the last things that Patrick would ever do.

Patrick looks like he’s about to say something, maybe another protest, but there’s no time. The grateful little smile on his face as he closes the bathroom door warms Pete enough that he doesn’t even miss his shirt.

*

Part of being so in demand, means that Patrick gets invited to a lot of things. These vary from actual important things such awards shows and events that Patrick has been asked to play at, and other things like charity events, night club openings and art shows. Most of those are more about being seen to be there rather than having to actively participate, but according to Patrick’s manager being seen is important too. 

Much to Patrick’s initial protest, he’s been invited to a gallery opening for a group of well-known artists. There’ll be plenty of cameras and a red carpet to strut on, which Patrick has no interest in, but he goes and Pete tags along too. Pete’s instructions are to find Patrick after a while with an imaginary emergency so that Patrick can leave on time and without looking rude, and then they can disappear into the night and eat ice cream in Patrick’s hotel room.

Sounds like a plan.

Patrick only pauses briefly on the red carpet, and Pete can almost count the number of seconds using his fingers. He gives his best smiles, and they look genuine, though Pete knows how uncomfortable Patrick feels at these things. It’s the strangest thing to see someone so talented and so deserving of praise feel so undeserving of recognition, though Patrick shrugs it off almost every time.

For Pete, his only job on the red carpet is to hold Patrick’s phone and stay out of the glare of flashbulbs. Easy. And it’s all pretty interesting to watch from the sidelines.

Where Patrick shines though, is when he’s mingling inside the venue. He can easily hold his own in conversations about music and producing and Pete quickly learns that Patrick is a fountain of useless music trivia and an unending source of information about musical tech.

Pete leave Patrick to do his thing and hangs out at the bar so he can people watch, and he’s deep in thought when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and it’s Mikey’s brother Gerard.

“Hey, man!”  
“Dude! I thought I saw your name on the bill. Pretty fucking awesome.” 

Gerard looks nowhere near as out of place as he usually does. Pete has known him almost as long as he’s known Mikey, and usually Gerard looks vaguely grubby with his tangle of pillar-box red hair, ripped jeans and faded shirts that Pete is sure have never been new. Tonight his arty hair and slightly mismatched suit means he fits in with the rest of the crowd.

“Thanks,” Gerard says. He’s another guy that’s immensely talented and yet has no idea of the scope of said talents. Mikey says Gerard mostly just stumbles along in an art-haze, clueless as to why he’s so in demand.

“I really love your stuff, Gee. It looks amazing. _The Black Parade_ piece is really mind blowing. Mikes has been telling me a bit about it. I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together and know that you’d be here for the opening of your own show. But it’s good to see you.”  
“You too, Pete. Last time I saw you-“  
“I was relatively miserable. New job. Better mind-set.”  
“Whatever it is, you’re looking happier.”

At the same time that Gerard is stolen by someone who looks successful and important to talk art, Mikey steps up to Pete’s other side and elbows him gently in the ribs. “Rubbing shoulders with successful artists, Wentz?” Mikey grins.  
“Yeah. Same shoulders that have slept on my couch. Should have known you’d be here, Mikes,” Pete says, elbowing back, genuinely so pleased to see Mikey.

“Of course. Have to support Gee. And it’s fun, you know?”  
“Yeah, it seems like it. I haven’t been to many of these things, and I don’t often get to stay because Patrick’s not really into them. But I guess it’s pretty fun. It’s good to see you,” he says and punches Mikey on the arm. They haven’t spoken much since Pete started with Patrick, and they haven’t had a decent catch up since Pete whined and whinged over the terrible tasks he had to complete for the heiress. Mikey is Pete’s oldest friend in LA, and while the sometimes go months without a call or meet-up, they always fall right back into being thick as thieves together. “It’s your fault I’m here anyway,” he grins. “You’re the one that got me the job.”  
“No, dude. You got the job yourself. Frank doesn’t do handouts.”

Pete shrugs like it’s no big deal, but he’s secretly pleased that that’s the case.

“So you like it?”  
“Yeah,” Pete says. “Rocky start. But it’s fine. I’ve got it totally under control now.”  
“Rocky start how?” Mikey asks.

Pete thinks for a second. There’s the obvious confidentially that he has to keep, but he’s also reluctant to mouth off about Patrick. Maybe he can do it in a round-about way.

“Well, he wasn’t too pushed on having a personal assistant, but his management wanted him to have one, and he does need one. I’ve had to convince him he needed me.”

Mikey laughs. “The Wentz charm. Sounds about right.”  
“The Wentz professionalism.” Not that he doesn’t like to think his charm helped too.

“So, he’s alright? Not an asshole? Not like that rich girl?”

“No, not at all. Jesus, I had a lucky escape with that chick. She was mostly fine anyway, just you know, a few unusual requests. Patrick is,” Pete says, stopping himself because he can’t think of what the right word might be. Awesome? Amazing? The reason that Pete has loved his job so much lately? “He’s great.”

“So can you share any amazing famous person stories? Is it all glamour and sex and drugs?”  
“It’s more like long days filled with screening a lot of calls and picking up a ton of coffees, interspersed with hanging around and diverting groupies.”  
“No perks?”  
“There’s tons of perks or I wouldn’t be still doing it, dude. I’m getting to travel lots, I’ve met some cool people. I get free stuff sometimes, Patrick gets gifted tons of shit he has no interest in.” Pete pulls out the hem of his shirt to demonstrate and Mikey makes an approving face. Of course, what Pete is not saying, is that the biggest perk is spending time with Patrick, though he knows that sounds silly and cheesy, and not what people usually say about their boss. But Patrick is just a cool guy to work for, that’s all.

It’s at that point where Patrick comes up and taps Pete on the shoulder. Pete startles because he hasn’t actually been paying attention to time, and maybe it’s around about now that he should have been rescuing Patrick with that made up emergency. 

But Patrick has a glass of wine in hand and he’s smiling, which is a very good sign. 

“Patrick. Time to go? Shit. Sorry. I lost track of time for a moment.”  
“No, no it’s fine. Take your time. It’s a great show, right?”  
Pete smiles. It is a great show, and he’s so happy to see Patrick relaxing for once. “Right,” he agrees. “Oh, hey. This is my friend Mikey Way. Mikey Way, this is Patrick, the incredibly talented man that I’ve been working for.”

Patrick simpers and blushes. “Pete talks too much. Nice to meet you.” His face changes to a look of recognition. “Way, like the same as Gerard Way?”  
“That’s my brother,” Mikey says.  
“Oh, wow.” And maybe it’s the beer he’s just downed but something tugs on Pete’s heartstrings. Patrick is getting excited about Gerard which is such a great thing both for him and for Gerard. “I’ve just been telling someone how much I love his paintings, especially marching band of the damned one.”  
“Yeah, I love that one too. You wanna meet him? He’ll be so happy you like it. ” Mikey doesn’t wait for Patrick to actually answer, he just stands on his tippy toes and calls over Pete’s head, “Gee?” until Gerard’s mop of red hair turns around. It’s not quite the same decorum that the rest of the gallery are showing, but Pete’s not sure that Mikey, or Gerard for that matter would ever care a jot for that. 

Patrick and Gerard hit it off and Pete is happy to take a step back and let them babble away together. He watches closely for any secret sign from Patrick that he needs to go create a fake emergency, but it never comes. 

“He’s awesome,” Mikey says, nodding his head towards Patrick.  
“Yeah, he’s cool. I’ve been having a blast working with him for the most part.”  
“I can see why you like him,” Mikey says cryptically, and that’s probably the beer that Pete had too, because it feels like an odd sentence.

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy,” Pete says, and he ignores Mikey’s smug little smirk. Mikey’s good at that particular smirk, and it’s one he wears when he thinks he knows more than someone else. But there’s nothing that Mikey knows about this that Pete doesn’t as far as Pete can tell, except maybe the meanings behind some of Gerard’s weird-ass paintings that he hasn’t shared with the public at large.

It’s a great night all round, and not only does Patrick not need a fake emergency to let him escape, but they end up staying there until the gallery is about to close and they’re being shooed out by the organisers. 

Pete’s so happy to see that Patrick not only had a rare night out but also one that he’s actually enjoyed so much it, that he feels like sending Gerard Way a fruit basket for putting on the art show in the first place.

*

A tour is not something that Pete has much experience with. Part of his misspent youth involved falling in and out of many bands with varying degrees of success. Any touring he did was mostly in Illinois or cities in the close surrounding states, and it was in a tiny, shitty van that constantly overheated, broke down and threatened to explode.

It’s a very different experience to living in an air-conditioned tour bus that has seating areas, bunks, a kitchen and even a toilet. Very different.

Life on a tour bus takes a little bit of getting used to, and it’s comparable to living in a dorm with people all coming and going at different times of the day. It’s a decent sized bus, but with more than half a dozen people sharing, it becomes a little chaotic at times. 

In amongst the chaos of shows and travelling and schedules and sometimes not much sleep, Pete and Patrick find their own routine.

Patrick sleeps late most days, of course, so Pete is almost always up, washed and dressed before him. When Pete hears Patrick getting up and heading for the shower, he puts a pot of coffee on in the tiny kitchenette so that it’s ready when he gets out. On the rare occasion that Patrick is up first, he has fresh coffee and toast waiting for Pete too, which makes Pete’s heart falter a little the first time. It’s a very sweet gesture, and completely unnecessary considering that it falls under Pete’s role to organise Patrick, and not the other way around.

Patrick still maintains that he doesn’t really _need_ an assistant, but he only mentions it sometimes, and usually only when he’s being very stubborn. He gets through the first week of the tour no problem and without any complaints, and then arrives at Pete’s bunk with a large garbage bag full of his laundry, looking a little lost. It turns out that Patrick doesn’t actually know how to ask Pete for help getting his laundry done. It’s fine, Pete has been waiting for it. There’s regular requests for dry cleaning, but that’s work clothes like suits or jackets, and this is Patrick’s more _intimate_ laundry. 

“I can do my own laundry. I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager.” Patrick is a little tight-lipped, maybe a little embarrassed. “I just - we don’t have a washer.”  
“I know you can do it. It’s just laundry. It’s just not so easy to do it if there’s no facilities, right?”  
“Right,” he mumbles.  
“Leave it in the front lounge and I’ll get it sorted when we stop at the venue tomorrow.”  
“You’re not going to wash it yourself or anything are you?”

Pete wants to laugh because there is actually no possible way he could wash the clothes himself, but it’s kind of adorable that Patrick is worrying. “Short of me handwashing your underpants in the shower, I can’t do it myself. There’ll be somewhere near the venue, though. I’ll get it sorted. Consider it done.”

Patrick reddens at Pete’s little comment but his face softens into relief when he finally says, “Thanks,” and he sounds like he means it, too.

Pete still has his usual daily duties to perform such as the management of Patrick’s diary - which can get fairly full during the touring schedule - call screening, and the general organisation of Patrick’s busy life, but he gets to do other things on tour too. There’s day trips out to see whatever city they’re in on the day, and even a trip to San Diego Zoo when they’re nearby which is really fun, and it’s nice that he gets included in the fun and not just the organising.

It’s strange and comforting in equal measures to begin with, to live in such close quarters with relative strangers - with the exception of Patrick, who Pete thinks he knows fairly well now, and even that’s a big jump in their working relationship. Patrick obviously knows his band and the crew pretty well, so it’s like Pete is tagging along for the first few days and he spends free time in his bunk trying not to get in the way of existing routines and rituals.

But Pete finds the balance shifting and it becomes more comforting and more like normality than anything else, and it begins when he’s invited to join a game of Mario Kart by Patrick. It’s a free for all with various members of the band and even the head of security joining in the game and switching controllers. There’s no goal to any of it other than to enjoy the afternoon kicking each other off the track, and it’s a great way for everyone to let off a little steam.

Things get a little blurred, a little over familiar while everyone is sharing because it’s like a huge house-share and it’s hard for everyone to keep their guards up so consistently for any length of time while living in a hamster cage on wheels. So Pete gets used to having no privacy, and he gets used to closing his ears and not listening in on personal phone calls or conversations. He gets used to turning a blind eye to anyone who seems to need personal time. 

He also gets used to seeing Patrick in his pyjamas or sweat pants, or even in a general state of adorable dishevelment. Pete relaxes too, and while he does still attempt to keep some level of professionalism, his attire changes from casual to super fucking casual and Pete can see Patrick hiding a smile the first time Patrick catches him in his Star Wars pyjamas. Usually Patrick only ever asks that he’s smartly dressed if they’re going to something like an awards show. Other than that comfort and functionality are the name of the game, but pyjamas are another level entirely. It’s fine though, and after the first few initial sightings, they’re comfortable enough that neither of them really cares any more.

Night time on the bus is pretty quiet, but most of the travelling is done while everyone sleeps so there’s a constant low rumbling in the background to get used to. When Pete lies in his bunk he can usually hear hushed voices from the lounge if there are people still up, or the tinny sound of music being played through headphones if Patrick is still awake in the bunk opposite his. It’s nice to hear that he’s not on his own, that someone else is awake, _alive_. 

Pete has never been a guy who gets homesick that easily once he has his friends to talk to via phone or the internet and something to keep his mind occupied, but there’s something about his situation that’s making him just that little bit lonely lately. He shrugs it off every time, because he can’t put his finger on what exactly he’s craving in terms of company. He likes his life, he likes his job; that’s enough, he decides.

One day, one of the guys from Patrick’s band comes back onto the bus with an ice cream, and considering it’s a hot day and the ice cream truck is parked just on the other side of the venue in the parking lot, an ice cream run is obviously the only way forward.

“Alright,” Pete says, pulling out his phone to make a list of ice cream and popsicle orders. “Who wants what?”

He and Patrick have been having a lazy afternoon because there’s nothing to be done, and they’ve been taking turns beating each other into the ground at Mario Kart. Their skills are matched and the competition is playful, but neither of them particularly like losing so what started just a few rounds at the start of the tour has turned into a near daily battle. 

“No, you’re off the clock,” Patrick says. He puts down his controller in a gesture that makes it looks like he’s made his mind up. “Let me go.”  
“Dude, I’m never off the clock.” And that’s kind of true. On days like today where there are no formal arrangements, Pete doesn’t have set working hours. Playing Mario Kart doesn’t count as a duty because it’s far too fucking fun, but Pete is generally pretty happy to step in and take over minor tasks, especially if there’s ice cream involved.  
“You are. Sit down.” Patrick’s voice has a note of authority in it, so Pete does as he’s told. 

“Are you sure you won’t get mobbed by kids?”  
“It’s early enough that it’s still quiet, and I’ll bring Charlie with me anyway because I need the extra hands to carry the ice-creams.”

Pete sits looking up at Patrick towering over him - all five foot four of him - and chews on his lip, considering. He knows how stubborn Patrick is, he knows that Patrick likes to do things for himself even when he’s busy (especially when he’s busy), and if Pete sits this one out he won’t have to argue like this for another while. He’s learning when to concede. “Okay. Thanks. Can I have chocolate sprinkles on mine then?”

The arch of Patrick’s eyebrow and the tiny smirk that Pete receives tells him that won’t be a problem.

*

As part of the tour, Patrick has a spot on a festival line up, so it means travelling to Las Vegas. It’s a stupidly busy day, and Pete has been on his feet for what feels like at least twenty-four hours already today and it’s only three in the afternoon. 

He’s hanging around waiting for Patrick to finish an interview before they have to go do another one at the opposite end of the venue. Pete checks his phone - both his own phone and his Patrick-phone - and checks his planner. It’s a relief to be waiting with no actual job to do right now because it means ten minutes of peace and quiet. 

At least it would be peaceful except for the two girls that are speaking in excited whispers two feet from him. 

They seem to be fans of Patrick’s, which is great, and Pete is not sure why they’re loitering in the hallway unattended, but they seem completely harmless and just enthusiastic to be there. Pete always gets a warm twist of something in his stomach when he sees people fawning over Patrick like that, because Patrick is an awesome guy and super talented and he really deserves it.

“Fuck! I’m so excited to see him.”  
“Me too. I heard he’s so nice. He’s so fucking gorgeous I might die if he talks to us.”  
“Oh my god. He’s so beautiful!”  
“His skin! Do you think he’s that pale all over?”  
“God, his voice! Imagine him, like, singing to you and only you!”

It goes on and on, some of it somewhat graphic, and about half way through, Pete realises that he’s no longer trying to block out their conversation, but instead he’s listening intently and agreeing with every single word that the girls are saying. More than that, he could trump them both with how much he means it.

It hits him like a bullet between the eyes and leaves him wishing he had somewhere to sit down. 

He’s not a fanboy. He’s not waiting in line with a record to get signed, or wearing a Patrick Stump t-shirt for too many days in row like he used to with his Morrissey shirts (and sometimes still does). 

And yet everything these girls say about Patrick resonates so deeply with Pete that he can’t believe he didn’t see it before. 

He gets it. He gets all of it. He just had no fucking idea. 

Pete has somehow fallen in love.

If Pete is actually honest with himself, blatantly honest, he can admit that this has been building for weeks on end. It’s so much more than an employee-employer relationship, and while Pete has always gone the extra mile for an employer, he’d go to the moon and back if Patrick just asked. 

He should have seen it when he noticed how much Patrick was getting under his skin with his bitchy little comebacks when they began working together. Pete can take those any day of the week, and much worse if he thinks about it, but with Patrick it felt different. 

Then, once they started getting along and Patrick actually opened his boundaries and let Pete into his life, even if it was marginally, Pete was relieved. At the time he had thought it to be a sort of professional relief. _Finally I can do my job_. But now he realises that it was more than that. It was the way Patrick began to let Pete help him, let Pete become part of the usually mundane but sometimes intimate things in his life. Patrick is notoriously secretive with his personal life, so sharing any details of it with Pete - a relative stranger - must have been difficult. Pete had gladly accepted the chance to do his job, but there was more to it, and he knows that now.

They’ve become so familiar with each other that it very often feels like the lines have been blurred between work and friendship. They even end up hanging out together when there’s time to spare in the middle of an otherwise busy day.

He finds himself smiling secretly through the panic as he remembers one day when they had both been exhausted and overly tired, finally napping on the same hotel bed in a fit of exhaustion before a red-eye flight across the country. It had been entirely innocent and they slept for less than an hour fully clothed on top of a made bed, but there was still a comfort and ease to it that took Pete’s breath away.

There was also a day where Patrick was feeling utterly self-conscious during a really long photoshoot. He’d been grumpy and uncomfortable all morning until he confessed to Pete in a fit of frustration that he felt like a show dog being groomed and paraded rather than someone with a skill. Pete felt a wave of secondhand discomfort for Patrick. Pete has never had a problem dressing up or parading himself, but he can see how someone with a personality like Patrick’s could feel like that. Pete did the first thing he thought of to distract Patrick; he pulled out a selection of ridiculous clothes from the back of the studio wardrobe and pranced around, mincing away and flailing his arms until Patrick cracked a wide smile and the tension drained from his body. 

He didn’t think twice about helping Patrick out, he never does. He knows he goes above and beyond his normal daily duties for Patrick more times than he could ever count, and he never questions why. Not once has he ever considered dressing up in an army uniform to do a Monty Python skit for another employer just to take the edge off their nerves. He should have fucking known.

Pete’s epiphany is shattered into a hundred Patrick-shaped pieces when there’s a squeal from one of the fans. Pete looks around and Patrick is coming out of his dressing room, and that means Pete needs to put his professional hat on and get back to work. 

Patrick walks right over to Pete, and the two girls are incredibly polite asking Patrick for a photo and an autograph. Pete’s heart beats so hard when he sees the genuine gratitude on Patrick’s face as he listens to the girls tell him how happy they are to meet him, what his music means to them. Patrick is always like this; in such disbelief that there’s complete strangers that want nothing from him other than to admire him and enjoy his music. Pete wonders how on earth Patrick has gotten this far in his career without believing that he deserves at least a little of the praise.

Pete stands by like an idiot, at a loss as to what he should do with his hands or how to stand while Patrick talks with them, because all he can think of as he waits is how much he’s currently freaking out. He tries hard to file his thoughts into some sort of order. 

He’s somehow fallen for Patrick but he has no idea how it happened. He has to continue to be professional for the rest of the longest day of all time while secretly wanting to hide in a bathroom and cry, jerk off, scream or punch a wall. Whatever would help really, he’s not picky.

But then Pete’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he knows it’s the silent alarm he’s set to make sure he gets Patrick to the next interview. Work. Yes! Professionalism, of course. He can do this. He indicates to Patrick that they have to leave, and has to stop himself from holding Patrick’s gaze for as long as he’d like, staring into those ice-blue eyes. He just hopes to God that Patrick can’t read his mind. 

 

As they leave, Pete can hear a squeal as Patrick sends a return wave to the girls. If he’s being completely honest he’d like to squeal too, though his squeal would be overridden by panic and frustration because what the fuck is he supposed to do now?


	2. Chapter 2

“Mikey, stop laughing,” Pete says through clenched teeth. 

Pete has several days off for the first time in a while. Patrick has a break in his schedule and Pete is enjoying his own downtime. A sushi date with Mikey is always fun, but for reasons unknown Pete let slip that he’s been thinking of Patrick less like a boss, and more like a delicious human that Pete wants to keep kissing forever. To Mikey’s credit though, he doesn’t say _I told you so_ like Pete thought he might.

“I can’t help it. You’re serious?”  
“Would I fucking make this up? Would I? I enjoy my job more than I ever have in my life, and I’ve fallen for my boss. I’m not fucking joking.”

Mikey’s eyes twinkle like he wants to laugh again, but Pete is grateful when he straightens his face. “Okay. I believe you. How? I mean, I kinda saw it coming. I could see the way you looked at him at Gee’s show. But please tell me more.”

“I don’t fucking know. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’ve been single for so fucking long, I wasn’t looking for anything. And I obviously wasn’t going to start with my fucking boss who I spend stupid amounts of time with every day in really personal and sometimes intimate situations.”  
“Intimate?”

“I pick up his personal things, I’ve talked to his mom more times this month than I’ve talked to my own - Mrs. Stump _loves_ me, by the way - I’ve seen him in his pyjamas. I’ve picked out pyjamas for him, for god’s sake!” Mikey raises his eyebrows in confusion and Pete clarifies, “His luggage got lost at the airport. I had to pick him up a bunch of stuff.”

“Like underwear?” Mikey asks, and Pete would smack him for being such a smug asshole if he wasn’t already trying to hide his blush.  
“Yes. Shut up.”

Again, Mikey’s face remains perfectly still, though Pete has never fully trusted Mikey’s ability to keep his face so neutral in any given situation. “Pete. It’s totally normal to have a crush on someone you work with. It’s fine. Just know that if you act on it, it will probably mess up your job.”

“Like you and Kristin?”  
“Kristin and I never worked together. She worked for Gee.” Kristin had been working for Gerard for two months when Mikey called by Gerard’s studio for lunch. He says that his eyes met hers across a grubby art studio and it was love at first sight.

“Same thing though, right? When she started sleeping with her boss’s brother she didn’t stick around working there for much longer. I can understand that, though.” Not that Gerard cared that they were dating, and neither did Mikey. But Kristin decided to go back to school to finish her degree and the timing was perfect. 

“Yeah, and Gee reminds me of that every time his current assistant messes something up,” he grins.

“I don’t want to leave my job,” Pete says sullenly. He pulls on the label on his soda bottle. His role now is a stark contrast to working for a spoilt heiress. He _loves_ working for someone like Patrick; a kind, humble person, who just happens to be beautiful and amazing, with the voice of a god and the mouth of a porn star. “I like working for Patrick. His schedule is stupidly busy at the moment, but he’s the easiest boss I’ve ever worked for. He’s so fucking happy when I do things like bring him a muffin with his coffee that he didn’t ask for.”

“Why do you do that?” Pete knows that’s a loaded question, and that the answer is not that the muffins were on special.   
“Because I care about him. I notice if he’s too busy for breakfast. I notice when he’s too busy and too nice to ask to ask to push things back so he can actually go get breakfast himself.” He sighs and lets his shoulders slump all the way down. “Fuck. I’m going to have to leave, aren’t I?”

“That’s up to you, dude. Can you, like, keep a lid on it?”  
“I guess.” Though that’s a shitty prospect. Pete has had inappropriate crushes before, but a crush on someone he sees every other week is different to falling for someone he spends every waking minute with some days. It’s going to be really fucking tough and pretty fucking painful, especially when Patrick eventually falls in love with someone else and has lots of babies and Pete will continue to be the assistant for all of them, miserable and alone and consumed with jealousy. Mikey looks at him sceptically, and he realises he’s been silent and letting his mind wander for several minutes, and okay, he needs to tone down his drama or Mikey’s going to kick his ass.

“If you can’t, then just go talk to Frank and see about a new placement. He’ll understand.”  
“If I don’t tell him I fucked up and fell in love, you mean?”  
Mikey snags the last California roll and stuffs it in his mouth. “Nah, Frank’s a romantic, he’d probably understand anyway.”

Well, that’s just great then. At least Pete has options.

*

“There’s going to be a lot of hanging around today. I hope you brought a book.”  
Pete looks up from his Patrick-phone where he’s just been checking the emails. He’s booked a late dinner reservation for Patrick and his band for after the show tonight and also booked him a flight home to Chicago for a week next Tuesday when he has time off to see his family.

“I’m sure I can amuse myself. Nothing you need?”  
“Nope. Nothing ‘til the show tonight. I have no press, no meetings. Nothing.” 

Patrick looks quite pleased with himself to have the entire afternoon off, and Pete can’t blame him. It’s been a very busy few weeks. Pete has had days off because that’s actually mandatory for him as an assistant under employment law, but he knows that Patrick’s free time has been a lot more sparse even if it’s sometimes by choice. 

“Good for you. Great. Text if you need anything. I’ll be over at five for pick-up for the venue.”  
“Anything planned for the afternoon?”

“Nope! I’m gonna head out for a bit and then maybe do some writing.”  
“You write?” Patrick looks delighted to learn something new about Pete, maybe because it’s something that they have in common.

“Yeah. It’s just sort of ramblings sometimes, bits of poetry.” He shrugs. It’s silly to feel shy about it seeing as Patrick obviously writes himself. “It used to be lyrics, I guess. Now it’s just -- I dunno. Helps me process.”

“Lyrics, huh?”  
“Yeah, back in the day it was. I was young and angry,” Pete grins. He’s angry now sometimes too, and sad, and anxious. Words help him. “It’s cathartic.”

“It totally is,” Patrick says. He looks cautious when he speaks again. “If it’s lyrics, I mean, if you ever want someone to look at your lyrics, you know. Feel free to share.”

Pete is a little taken aback. He’s never thought of showing Patrick anything he’s written, but it’s a thought. He can’t though. Not since most of what he’s been writing lately would be thoroughly unfit for Patrick’s eyes considering it’s about him. 

“Maybe. Uh.” Panic, panic, panic. “Sure. Another time though. Nothing ready for human eyes just yet.”

Pete is leaving Patrick’s room by then. He has his two phones in one hand, his jacket in the other, and he fumbles at the door knob distractedly. “See you at five, Patrick,” he says, and when he’s on the other side of the closed hotel room door he breathes deeply in the hallway. 

He curses space and time for making him end up with this; with a man who’s the sweetest boss he’s ever had, a man he’s falling in love with, and the fact that they are one and the same. It’s not fair.

*

It’s the longest of long days, they’re both jetlagged and they’re both fed the fuck up.

Patrick spent the day in the studio with the Panic! boys just listening to the demos they have already so that he can get a feel for them and see if he can help them out, improve on them. After that, he and Pete fly to New York on a late flight which gets delayed for over an hour. 

Tempers are high. They’re both exhausted, standing in Pete’s hotel room, and Patrick’s notebook with all his recent ideas and lyrics in it is missing. 

Pete is just about keeping his cool, more because he _has_ to than because he wants to. He packed for Patrick of course, because Patrick had no time to and that’s fine and a normal duty for him anyway. Pete had scoured the hotel room before they checked out, like he always does, and he knows he packed everything that was there.

If the notebook is not here now, then it wasn’t in the hotel room. Patrick is not convinced.

“I know I emptied the hotel room. It wasn’t there. It’s not in your luggage. I’ve checked your rucksack too.”  
“Can you check again?”  
“I’ve checked three times, but sure I can.”

Pete begins his checking again, carefully sorting through the clothes in the bags, and then all the pockets of the guitar case that Patrick brings everywhere with him. It’s not there, just like it wasn’t when he checked before. Pete has even checked his own bag, just in case he absentmindedly packed it into there instead. 

“You’re sure you didn’t bring it with you to the studio? Will I call Brendon to see if anyone’s seen it?”  
“No need. I didn’t bring it there. I know I didn’t.”

“I’ll call the hotel,” Pete says. It’s the only other thing to do.   
“What’s the point?” Patrick asks, and he’s sounding a bit pissed now. “You said you packed everything in the room. It won’t be there.”

“No harm in checking,” Pete says. He’s holding his tongue. He wants to check the studio first, but Patrick is adamant. Pete can understand why Patrick might be a little snippy; a notebook full of the inner workings of someone’s mind is not exactly easy to replace. But Pete is trying to help, and he’s fucking exhausted too, goddamnit. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

Patrick flops down on the bed fully clothed and stares at the ceiling while Pete dials. He speaks with the receptionist who puts him through to a duty manager. It takes a good fifteen minutes of waiting, and then he’s told that no notebook was found in either of the rooms they were staying in.

Patrick is scrolling through his phone, distracted, so Pete sends a quick text to Brendon, because the Panic! guys should still be around the studio. It feels a little sneaky, like he’s going behind Patrick’s back, and of course he is, but that notebook is important. The reply comes back only a minute later, and yes, a black, leather bound notebook was found in the studio. Pete sends a quick thanks back, and tells Brendon that he’ll arrange for it to be picked up by courier tomorrow morning. 

“Found it!” Pete says, triumphant.  
“At the hotel?” Patrick sounds pleased, but because he’s so over tired from the stupidly long day, it doesn’t quite come out as pleased as Pete thinks it should. “You said you’d checked?”

And Pete is tired too. “I did check.”

“So how was it forgotten, then?”  
“It wasn’t forgotten by me,” Pete says, and it feels kind of bitchy and pretty childish.

“But-“  
“It was at the studio.”

Patrick is silent for a minute, staring at the screen of his phone which by now has timed out and locked itself. “Why did you even check there? You didn’t believe me?” he says, and he sounds angrier now. And then “I don’t need you to babysit me!” He gets off the bed and steps towards Pete and Pete is not sure what he’s supposed to do here.  
“I’m not babysitting you,” Pete says, and it comes out as a bitter laugh. “I had to check. You wanted your book back, right?”  
“Yes, but not if you’re going to be an asshole.” 

They’re standing a foot apart now. Pete’s hands are clenched in fists at his sides, though he has no idea if it’s because he wants to hit Patrick or if it’s for another reason.

“Look, you can call me out for not believing you and checking anyway, but it’s my job to double check everything, and I wanted to make sure you got your notebook back, okay? There’s no need to be an ass about it.” Which is completely over the line even if Patrick started it with the name calling. Pete will apologise for that…when Patrick isn’t up in his face like he is now.

“Don’t call me an ass! Shut the fuck up,” Patrick says. He looks fuming, completely fucking done for the day.  
“Make me,” Pete spits. It’s totally childish and inappropriate to say it, but it’s too late now.

Patrick stops dead. His eyes lock with Pete’s and it’s no longer anger, it’s something else.

Pete thinks if he can just take three deep breaths he’ll recover his cool and his professionalism, but while he’s on deep breath number two, he sees Patrick staring at his mouth. Before he gets to his third deep breath he’s finds himself leaning in towards Patrick, just about stopping before he reaches Patrick's lips. And, god, Pete has been very good at doing stupid things in the past, he knows that, but this feels extra stupid. Even if Pete works for the agency and not for Patrick, this is not appropriate; Patrick is _technically _his boss. Still, he can't help himself. He just goes for it and kisses Patrick, full force. He's wanted this for so long, and now that he's done it, he's not sure what's next.__

__Patrick kisses back against Pete, and Pete is a little surprised by how eager he is. He had sort of expected a smack in the mouth from Patrick, rather than Patrick's _tongue_ in his mouth. But here they are, and this is so much better than he’s been imagining. Patrick’s mouth is heaven. His lips are soft and wet and he kisses like a fucking angel. Then Patrick’s hand is on Pete’s hip, the other on his chest, and Pete sighs right into Patrick’s mouth at the touch, the extra contact. It’s proper kissing, not just a silly kiss to break the tension and stop them from kicking the shit out of each other. _ _

__Pete gets his hands on to Patrick's hips and pulls him flush against him, then slides a hand around the cup the meat of Patrick’s ass. He can feel the heat of Patrick's body through their shirts, feel the bud of Patrick’s erection, and holy shit, he wasn’t expecting Patrick to get hard over this._ _

__Patrick had been all flushed when they were arguing, the blush pink against his pale skin. Pete wonders, as he licks his tongue so carefully into Patrick’s mouth, if the blush goes all the way down. It’s a little dizzying, and Pete feels the need to know _exactly_ how far it goes. He fumbles the first few buttons of Patrick's shirt open and gets his hands on the skin of his chest that’s mostly smooth like silk but with a smattering of hair._ _

__Edging towards the bed feels like a risk, a very bold move considering that they’ve just started kissing, but the temperature feels like it’s rising and Pete wants it, wants _Patrick_. He wants to see if Patrick does too. Thankfully Patrick goes with him, moving in step and letting Pete push him down. After several minutes of blissfully hot making-out while rolling on the bed, Pete pulls his own shirt off - it needs to be off, he needs Patrick's fingers all over his skin, for god’s sake! Then he climbs on top of Patrick, straddling his waist and kisses him again. _ _

__The panic creeps in while he’s on top of Patrick because this has gone way further than he’d thought it would. Their hips are pushed together. Pete can feel Patrick’s dick against him and it feels fucking amazing, but this situation has no playbook._ _

__"Patrick," Pete breathes. "Is this okay? If you want me to stop, just tell me." He feels like he’s throwing his dick under the bus, but he _has_ to check.  
Patrick quickly shakes his head. There's no hesitation. "Please don't stop."_ _

__Their pants are lost in the tangle of bedcovers, and then there’s some delicious kissing and rubbing up against each other. Feeling Patrick’s guitar callused hands on his skin tracing his tattoos feels like one of the secret jerk off fantasies he’s had come to life, locked in his hotel room and furiously fucking his own fist. Except this is real, Patrick’s hands are real, the tingles that are spreading under all of his skin are so fucking real._ _

__He shouldn't really be this turned on considering it’s just kissing and gentle touching. It's just Patrick's fingers gripping on his bicep and his open mouth, breathing hard against Pete's neck. They aren't even fully undressed; Patrick still has his shirt on, though it's wide, wide open, and they both still have their boxers on. But then Pete gets his hand inside Patrick's underwear and works his fist over the slick hardness of Patrick's dick. Add that to seeing Patrick so naked, so aroused, so undone, and Pete is half way there already._ _

__Patrick's breathing becomes more erratic and within seconds he's groaning and spilling all over his boxers and Pete's hand, his mouth pressed against Pete's neck. Pete feels his teeth graze the skin, but there’s no bite. He slumps back onto the pillows beneath him and just stares up at Pete, open mouthed and flushed and gorgeous._ _

__"Fuck. Patrick. That was so hot. You've no idea."_ _

__Patrick just kisses him in response. A slow, soft kiss. Patrick's energy and heat have been zapped by his climax, but Pete's haven’t. Seeing Patrick in that state has only heightened everything and he's now uncomfortably hard. He moves Patrick's hand from his bicep to his crotch. Pete presses Patrick's hand with enough pressure to feel a little relief but the real relief comes when Patrick shapes his hand around Pete's cock and squeezes. Pete's eyes shut involuntarily and a low moan vibrates from the back of his throat._ _

__"Pete, what do you want?"  
“I don’t care. Just touch me? Please!”_ _

__Pete knows it really won't matter what Patrick does to him, or how he does it. Just the fact that Patrick is the one doing it, doing anything, is going to be enough. He could even get himself off pretty quickly, using just the image of Patrick coming all over himself, but that's for a time when Patrick isn’t right beside him, warm and willing and undressed._ _

__He’s not sure if he should be enjoying it this much, but he really, really is. The initial panic he felt at the thought that _This Is Happening_ loosens its grip a little and he can feel his body relaxing more and more. He wants this, and he’s wanted it for a long time now, and even if he doesn’t know how anything will work out afterwards, he lets himself enjoy every second, every touch, every kiss until he’s trembling and he feels like he’s going to lose his mind._ _

__He's so right about it not mattering what Patrick does. Patrick pulls at Pete's boxers, tugging them off so that he can get his hand around Pete. It's unreal how good Patrick's hand feels, it fits perfectly around Pete's dick and he pulls in steady strokes. There’s the occasional swipe of Patrick's thumb across the slit, but it really doesn't take much more than that. Pete's last thought before the white out of his orgasm is that it's Patrick that's making him come. Patrick Patrick Patrick._ _

__It’s not quite cuddling afterwards, but they stay in the bed and there’s a few coy smiles shared. It’s a little awkward though. This is nothing Pete saw coming._ _

__Pete falls asleep, and at some point while he’s out cold Patrick must take off back to his own room, because Pete wakes up alone, naked and more than a little worried about what happened between them._ _

__It was amazing, beyond what he’s been thinking and fantasising about, but he can’t shake the feeling that what went down completely overstepped the working relationship that he and Patrick have got going on._ _

__Pete hasn’t got laid in a long time, and while he’s well able to look after himself to get a release, he’d forgotten how perfect and intimate it can be to share a bed with a warm body. Patrick’s warm body is such a fucking bonus that he feels like he won the lottery._ _

__He wonders if maybe that’s the reason that it happened. He hasn’t seen or heard of Patrick with any sort of love interest in the months that they’ve been working together. Patrick never mentions anything about anyone he’s interested in, or seeing, or even if there’s a hot girl across the bar. Pete didn’t even know that Patrick might be into dudes until they kissed._ _

__And maybe that’s it. Maybe last night was just Patrick seeking comfort and warmth and affection in Pete because he was there and because he was convenient, and maybe that’s what celebrities do; sleep with their assistants._ _

__It’s a disappointing thought, because Pete would obviously like to be more to Patrick than that, but after Patrick’s departure he doesn’t know what to think._ _

__Pete wonders if he could let it be a thing that they do, if he could allow himself to sleep with Patrick again and again if he’s allowed the chance, and if he could separate it out and keep it so that the sex wouldn’t interfere with anything else. He resolves that he probably can’t. He can sleep with people he doesn’t love, but if he’s sleeping with someone he loves, he doesn’t want to pretend the love is not there._ _

__Bizarrely, neither of them mention anything at first. Pete showers and dresses and meets Patrick in the lobby after they text their rendezvous point. There’s lingering eye contact that one of them should break with actual real human words, even if it’s awkward one. But there’s just a bumbling, shy smile shared, like that over a secret joke, and it’s broken when Pete finally can’t stand the silence anymore and ushers Patrick towards the door of the hotel._ _

__It’s a completely normal morning from there, and Pete feels like it should be weirder considering last night he had his hand down Patrick’s boxers, felt him come undone beneath him, but it’s nowhere near as odd as it could be. There’s simple chit chat in the car on the way to Patrick’s photoshoot, and even that feels normal and ordinary._ _

__“It’s not a weird photoshoot this time, right?” Patrick asks  
“It’s like, semi-formal wear or something. No comedy ties or ridiculous props I hope.” The booking details in Patrick’s diary don’t give much information, but he knows it’s nothing too unusual.  
“I don’t know how they come up with the concepts for the weird ones.”  
“Yeah, but dressing like a superhero or whatever must be kinda fun. It’s all pretend, you know? Just for show, so no harm in enjoying it.”  
“I’ve never really been that guy though, the dressing-up-in-stupid-clothing-guy.”  
“Oh, I would totally be that guy,” Pete says gleefully. “I would totally dress in all those ridiculous outfits and do the silly poses too. Everyone is different, Pattycakes. Don’t worry.” The nickname is one that Pete drops occasionally, and he knows that Patrick isn’t fond of it, but it’s usually taken in good spirits._ _

__“Yeah, feel free to play dress up again if you want.”  
“Oh, I will!” It’s become one of Pete’s favourite ways to pass a slow day at a photoshoot._ _

__The photoshoot is mainly boring. It’s in a very up-market hotel with antique furniture and opulent décor. Patrick is to wear a selection of vintage suits, and Pete spends quite a lot of his time between shots fantasizing about Patrick looking like James Bond, and how he could totally be his Ms. Moneypenny - he’s already like Patrick’s secretary at times._ _

__Sadly for Pete, there’s no hilarious things for him to try on and amuse Patrick with, because they’re all beautiful and serious._ _

__The only hitch of the day is that the photoshoot also involves female models for a portion of the photos. Their job is to pose alongside Patrick, which Patrick has taken absolute umbrage over. After a rant about women not being objects and him stamping his feet and saying he’s done with the photoshoot entirely, Pete gets Patrick’s manager on the phone to talk him down. Patrick’s temper flaring reminds Pete specifically of last night, and the spark that had caused the tension to rise between them, ending in orgasms all around. It unravels something inside Pete and he has to sit on his hands while he watches Patrick on the phone._ _

__

__Pete’s stomach twists over how much Patrick cares about other people being treated correctly so much that he’d put his own engagements on the line. After half an hour of Patrick sounding pissed as fuck, he and the photographer come to a compromise. Patrick agrees to finish the shoot so long as it’s only with one model and the poses are limited so that she doesn’t look like a prop. He also gets a promise that the other models will, of course, be paid for their time as normal, and his manager’s word that there won’t be a repeat of those sort of shoots in the future._ _

__As Patrick gets his hair and make-up touched up, Pete stands by the side-lines watching. Of course the make-up and grooming are because of the lights and filters and all of that, and Pete knows that they’re probably necessary, but he can’t quite understand how people could think that a little lipstick, powder and paint could improve on what he’s sure is perfection to begin with._ _

__It’s not until that evening, when the photoshoot is finished, and when Pete has ordered them room service and they’re eating it in Patrick’s hotel room that their encounter gets brought up._ _

__“About last night,” Patrick starts._ _

__Pete stares blankly, because he thinks his reply should be one of two things; _that shouldn’t have happened_ , or _let’s run away together_. He knows which one is appropriate and professional and he knows which one he really wants, and they’re not the same thing._ _

__“Yeah, I guess we should talk about that. It probably shouldn’t have happened.” Pete says it quickly before he can change his mind. He knows that’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t want to just be the comfort that Patrick turns too when he gets too lonely. He wants more than that, and he’s sure he won’t get it. He also can’t admit that he’s got so many feelings for Patrick that he could fill a warehouse with them because then shit could get weird._ _

__Patrick says nothing, just looks down at the plate in his lap and pushes the remaining fries around and around. “Right. Right,” he finally says quietly, almost reluctantly, though Pete is sure it’s what Patrick was going to say anyway. “That’s what -- yeah, shouldn’t have happened.”_ _

__“Not that it wasn’t amazing,” Pete blurts out. And _of course_ it was amazing, the best time he’s had in ages, but if he wants to maintain a business relationship with Patrick then it’s for the best. It’s not like Patrick is here declaring his love and saying it _wasn’t_ a mistake. “I mean, it just shouldn’t have -- I shouldn’t have done that. I could lose my job. I probably should lose my job. I shouldn’t have crossed the line.”_ _

__Patrick shakes his head. “Look, it’s fine.” He sets the plate down on the bed quietly, carefully, like it takes a lot of concentration. It’s not a nice conversation to have, and not the one Pete wants to have. If Pete had any indication that Patrick wanted this even a fraction as much as he wants it himself he would be all over Patrick by now. “It never happened. No hard feelings. I hope it won’t make working together weird?”_ _

__“Of course not.” It’s not even a lie, because it’s already weird as far as Pete is concerned. _It never happened_._ _

__Someone in Pete’s position with looser morals might be better at using a situation like this - either the hook-up or the awkward conversation - to his advantage, maybe to ride Patrick’s coattails, maybe for financial gain, maybe for the glory of bedding a celebrity. If Patrick was a lesser person - and Pete firmly believes that he’s not - he could also use it for his own advantage. Pete is certain that there’s plenty of famous people who keep a Personal Assistant on their books so that they can avail of any and every service they wish, no matter how _personal_._ _

__So it seems to have been a mistake no matter which way Pete reads it, and as shitty and as painful it feels, it’s for the best. _It never happened_._ _

__The conversation for the rest of their meal is stilted, a little muted, but by the next morning they’re back to their usual banter with occasional flirting. That’s how they work best._ _

__*_ _

__It happens again, though._ _

__They’re in London and jetlagged to all hell from a red-eye flight so awful that it must have been chartered by Satan himself. Even better than that is that the record label have upgraded their usual two separate rooms to a suite with two bedrooms in it as a reward for Patrick’s recent successes._ _

__After a long day and a hard flight, it’s nice to be shown a bit of luxury. It’s a gorgeous suite, bright and spacious and nothing that either of them usually stay in, and Pete’s not ungrateful, but he’s been looking forward to some quiet time to pre-empt the craziness of the next two days that he and Patrick have ahead of them._ _

__Instead of Pete’s alone time, they wind up ordering room service and including a bottle of red wine in the order, Pete thinking it’ll be the easiest way to get them to unwind._ _

__By the time the wine is finished, they’re giggling stupidly over how ridiculous the check-in guy was at the airport, and how angry the old lady ahead of them had been when she couldn’t bring her dog with her, despite not having a ticket for him, or a carrier, or even a leash. Even though it was a cute little lap-dog, rules are rules and she spat fire at the poor check in desk guy while everyone in the queue rolled their eyes and hoped the tiny dog would somehow eat her._ _

__Minutes after the giggling starts they’re making out furtively, hands wandering over jeans and shirts. Patrick wedges his thigh between Pete’s and the friction does nothing to stop the heat increasing between them. Soon after that they’re undressing each other and then Patrick slides down the bed and takes Pete into his mouth. It’s completely unexpected, and Pete cries out at how good it feels to have Patrick touch him like this, suck him like this. The drag of Patrick’s lush lips, the heat of his mouth, the swirl of his fucking tongue makes Pete thread his fingers into Patrick strawberry blonde hair and hold on for dear life. He comes when he thinks of how he’s going to get Patrick on his back and return the favour._ _

__Afterwards, Patrick falls asleep, and again they’re not cuddling but he’s half pressed against Pete as he sleeps. Pete can’t switch off, can’t relax properly enough to actually get to sleep despite his exhaustion and the bedtime-orgasm. He watches Patrick for a little while with his gentle snoring, softly closed eyes, eyelashes that look so lush and dark against his pale skin._ _

__But Pete still can’t sleep, and he knows why._ _

__He’s sure that no matter how amazing he and Patrick were together this evening, this is just going to be another awkward conversation between them tomorrow, one that involves one or both of them making excuses about the wine going to their heads, or something else just as flimsy._ _

__He can’t bring himself to stay in the bed with Patrick so he crawls into the one in the adjoining room and he knows it’s silly but the blankets feel cold and scratchy in comparison to the warm and Patrick-filled bed he’s just left._ _

__Of course Pete is right, and the next morning there’s a rushed conversation over lattes - fetched by Pete - about how last night shouldn’t have happened. It’s a carbon copy of their last talk like this, and even though Pete was expecting it, even though he knew that Patrick wasn’t going to meet his eye as he fumbled for words, it still hurts._ _

__But Pete gets on with it. He stays professional, slapping on the enthusiasm that he knows Patrick needs seeing how busy their flying trip is._ _

__*_ _

__“Okay. Tell me what happened. Is this going to be a tale of woe or one with a happy ending?”_ _

__Mikey’s face is patient and neutral, and Pete is so grateful that he hasn’t just laughed in his face like last time because he’s not sure his ego could take the playful bashing today._ _

__“More woe, I think. Not that much to tell other than we slept together, we both agreed it was a mistake, and we haven’t spoken about it again.”  
“You slept with him?”  
“It was an accident,” Pete offers, still halfway convinced that it was.   
“You slipped and fell on his dick?”  
Pete laughs despite himself and Mikey looks pleased to have gotten the laugh out of him. “Not far off it, actually. We were all jet-lagged and exhausted and it was late. We got into a stupid argument and he was all up in my face. All I could think was how much I wanted to kiss him, so I did.”  
“And then you fell on his dick?”  
“Mikes, you know I don’t kiss and tell.” Mikey gives Pete the most disbelieving of looks until Pete finishes, “But yeah. Then I fell on his dick. Or we fell on each other’s, I guess.”  
“And how was that?” God bless Mikey for not flinching at the details, and Pete curses himself for actually giving them.   
“A good time was had by all,” Pete says brightly, and a thrill runs through him at the thought of what they did together and how fucking amazing it was.   
“And then what?” Mikey’s pulling the story out of Pete bit and bit, and despite the fact that this was Pete’s idea to meet up for dinner and a catch-up, and Pete’s idea to open up his heart, it’s much harder to actually admit everything. He feels foolish._ _

__“Then we fell asleep and when I woke up he was gone. The next day we were totally normal, no conversation about anything but work until that night. He opened the dialogue and I shut it down, but he didn’t argue.”  
“A mutual mistake?”   
“I guess. It fucking sucks, though. I wish it hadn’t happened. I wish I’d kept my hands to myself. But I also don’t. I wish I’d told him I wanted it.”  
“Do you think it would have made a difference?”   
“I don’t know.” He thinks of the uncertainty on Patrick’s face when they spoke, the caution in his voice. But then he thinks of how resolute Patrick sounded when he agreed with the sentiment that that happened between them, no matter how hot it was, no matter how well they fit together, it was a mistake. _It never happened._ “I don’t think so.” _ _

__“Do you think you can keep it in your pants and not let it happen again?” Pete stares back at Mikey’s hazel eyes, and he knows he can’t lie. Mikey fucking always knows when he’s lying, and Mikey gets there before Pete can confess. “It did happen again, didn’t it?”_ _

__“It might have,” Pete says, and of course he can’t lie now. “It did. In London. It was different, but the same. Jetlagged. We had a fucking suite for Christ’s sake. And wine. It’s not an excuse. It just fucking happened. I don’t even know.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his fingers over them trying to blot away the memory of Patrick going down on him. The last thing he needs is an inappropriate hard-on, because even if Mikey’s not making fun of him so far, popping a boner would be a step to far._ _

__“But you’re both into it then, if you slept together twice? It’s not just a coincidence.”_ _

__“I don’t know. I wondered that too, and I thought maybe if he was into me at least a bit to sleep together a second time, but I really don’t know. Maybe I’m just convenient, you know? Like friends with benefits or whatever.” But then Pete thinks about all the nights they slept on the bus with just a thin curtain stopping them if either of them wanted to seek comfort. Pete never considered it, but if all Pete is is a perk of the job then maybe Patrick would have. Pete rubs his face again, scrubs his hand over his jaw, but this time it’s in confusion, frustration._ _

__“And you shut it down the second time, or did he?” Pete loves and hates Mikey’s questioning techniques in equal parts. He’s pulling the story detail by detail, and he sometimes reminds Pete of his old therapist. The good one. Pete’s so grateful for how well Mikey knows him and for how well he can see through Pete’s bullshit, always could._ _

__“He did. Said we should keep it professional.”  
“Can you?”  
“Can I what? Stop myself from sticking my hand down his pants? Stop myself thinking of him in all these dirty situations? Stop myself wanted to tell him I’m the fuck in love with him?” The couple at the next table give Pete a look that’s a mix of disdain and curiosity and Pete realises how loud his freak out has been. Fucking whatever, they probably got a kick out of his stupid soap-opera life for the past half hour. He throws them a dirty look, but returns his attention to his beer, and then to Mikey’s face. “I have to. I don’t have a choice if I want to keep my job.” His voice drops when he confesses further, “I don’t know if I _can_ keep my job anymore.”_ _

__“It’s up to you. Really. I can give you my opinion if you want, but it’s up to you.”  
“What would you do, Mikey?” Pete feels like he’s a breath away from pleading, desperate for some guidance, or better still, for someone to take the decision from his hands and tell him when it’s done._ _

__“I’d quit. Leave on good terms, and then tell him I love him. You can’t stay and tell him, or it could be just awful. You can leave and not tell him, but then you’ll never, ever know if he felt it too or if you guys were just hooking up for comfort, or because he’s like a spoilt rockstar who just gets what he wants.”  
“He’s not like that.”  
“But you’ll never know,” Mikey sing-songs. It irks Pete to his core, but he knows Mikey’s right and he’ll have to live with a question mark forever. He can probably take the question mark though if the alternative is bone-crushing heartbreak of Patrick rejecting him as just a warm body to spend lonely nights with._ _

__There’s silence for several minutes and Pete hears the couple beside them get up and leave. He flips the bird to their backs as they go, just for them being so fucking nosy about his stupid, pathetic love-life._ _

__“Want me to talk to Frank? You know his wife’s pregnant again, right?” Pete didn’t know that, but Jamia is Frank’s right hand woman. She is in no way his PA, more like partner (often like the actual boss), but it means that Frank will need an assistant to cover some maternity leave and it might be good to do some corporate work again._ _

__“Yeah, put in a good word for me and I’ll call him during the week.”_ _

__Pete feels a little mournful as he downs his beer, but at least he has a decision made now._ _

__*_ _

__“I’ve spoken to my agency,” Pete says. His voice is small and barely audible. He doesn’t actually want to say this, but he knows he has to. He can’t continue like this. It was bad enough when it was a growing inappropriate crush, but it’s too painful since their _incidents_ , and since they put a stop to all of it. Patrick’s temperament has been similar to how it was it was at the start; cooled and a little guarded at times. There’s still the informal jokes and giggles, and there’s occasional flirting, but it’s been reduced and Pete can tell that they’re both making an effort to keep it like that. It’s better this way, but it fucking hurts like hell, and it’s cemented Pete’s decision that this will end badly for his heart if he tries to keep pretending._ _

__Patrick’s not off stage too long after a show in Houston, his first of three nights in Texas. It’s not an ideal time for Pete to hand in his notice, but he chickened out all day, and he didn’t want to do it too soon before Patrick performed. Now is the only time. They’re in the dressing room and Patrick looks hot as hell with post-shower wet hair. Pete’s skin is buzzing with nerves, but he reminds himself to be a fucking grown up and deal with his shit._ _

__"Yeah? What about?”_ _

__“I’m leaving,” he mumbles out. “I mean, I won’t be working for you anymore.”_ _

__The silence is deafening, and Pete counts ten breaths before Patrick breaks it by saying, “oh?”_ _

__“Yeah. So I think it’s just the heavy scheduling. Maybe I didn’t think it through when I took the job. I’ve enjoyed myself a lot, though. I love working with you.” _And I also love you, Patrick. It’s starting to really get to me_. “But it’s just too much, I guess. I’m homesick.” It’s a lie, but not a total lie. It has gotten too hard, but not for those reasons. And home is technically Chicago not LA, but that’s not the point._ _

__“Oh,” Patrick says again. His face is guarded like when an interviewer asks an intrusive question or is generally speaking to him in an inappropriate way. It’s controlled like he’s fighting something, and Pete knows that in those sort of interview situations he’s fighting his temper, fighting to hold his tongue. Pete doesn’t know what exactly he’s fighting now, but in his eyes he does look a little hurt. “Sure. I understand that. You need more time off or whatever? Can I change your mind? I’m sure I can get you a pay raise, you work around the clock for me. Fuck, if the record company won’t pay it, I’ll pay it myself.”_ _

__Pete lies. “I appreciate that, but I think it’s time for me to go. I talked to Frank, the guy that runs my agency. He’s setting me up with an LA based job.” Which is true, but it’s not what Pete wants.  
“If you’re sure?”  
“Yeah.” After so much back and forth, his decision is as final as it’s ever going to be.  
“How long?”  
“End of this leg of the tour. So, like, three weeks?”  
“Three weeks,” Patrick repeats. “That’s really soon.”_ _

__“But you get me until then, right?” Pete grins like it’s a big joke. It’s easier. Laugh or cry. “So make your requests random and unusual until you have to deal with a new guy.”  
“I’ll bear that in mind.”_ _

__There’s another heavy silence while Pete flings the last of Patrick’s possessions into his duffle. He scans the room and sees a charging cable, and abandoned hoody, a capo and Patrick’s wallet, of all things, and he wonders how Patrick is going to cope without him. He crosses his fingers that the new assistant knows his shit or Patrick’s lifestyle will eat them alive._ _

__They pack and leave the venue and the whole time Patrick looks like he’s in contemplative mode._ _

__“I really hope this isn’t my fault,” he says when they’re on the way to the bus. It takes Pete by surprise and he forgets for a second that he’s said he’s going to leave. Pete waits for him to speak again. “You work really fucking hard-“  
“So do you,” Pete protests, because it’s true. _ _

__“Yeah, but I’m sorry if I,” he stops, suddenly focussed on the pebbles on the parking lot ground, definitely not looking at Pete. “If I took advantage of your good nature, you know?”  
“You totally didn’t. Part of the job.” He waves his free hand as he hauls the duffle with the other. “It’s fine. All good things come to an end, right?”_ _

__“Sure,” Patrick says, but he doesn’t sound convinced to Pete, and Pete can’t help but feel once again that he fucked this up when it could have been just fine._ _

__There’s a mostly silent few rounds of Mario Kart on the bus, but the mood is more sombre than it usually is, especially after such a good show (Patrick was _on fire_ tonight!). _ _

__Patrick wanders off to his bunk eventually, and Pete goes to his own, though admittedly he has a split-second thought to follow Patrick instead. He punches his pillow to make it the right shape and then wraps himself up in his blanket looking for the comfort he thought he’d find when he took control of his life. He comes up with nothing but a crappy night’s sleep and a knot in his stomach._ _

__*_ _

__The time between Pete handing in his notice and when he actually leaves is strange, and it seems to go both slowly and quickly all at once._ _

__Pete spends the first few days wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He turns it over and over in his mind and he still comes up with a blank, and while he feels like he absolutely should leave and save his professional integrity, his career, his slowly breaking heart, it’s really not what he wants._ _

__He still enjoys his job immensely. Spending every day with Patrick has lost none of its charm over time, and if Pete just pushes down any feelings he has, he’s just happy to get on with his job. He keeps himself busy, throwing himself into keeping on top of all of his duties and making himself as efficient as he can be, thinking it especially important now that their time is limited. He decides that it’s best to make the most of the time while they’re still together - _working together_ , Pete corrects himself. _ _

__He tries to anticipate Patrick’s needs more than usual; coffees are pre-empted, possible restaurants are researched and then researched again before they’re booked, Pete’s packing skills are upped to make sure that Patrick has absolutely everything he might possibly need for any given trip, his pages of important phone messages get gold stars added to the most important messages. Patrick wants for nothing, and Pete knows it’s probably stupid, but he thinks that if he’s the best Personal Assistant he can possibly be, then maybe Patrick will miss Pete as much as Pete’s going to miss Patrick. And he knows he’s going to miss Patrick more that he even thinks he will._ _

__At some point, Pete realises he’s been neglecting something that Patrick would never ask him to look after in the first place. Patrick gets fan mail, fan letters and fan art, and quite a lot of it. These are wonderful, beautiful creations made and written by his very creative fans, and Patrick is always very gracious when he gets them, but his lack of ego means that he’s almost embarrassed by them afterwards, not sure how to deal with them once he’s thanked the fan for being so thoughtful._ _

__Pete finds a huge stash of letters and art in a cardboard box in Patrick’s apartment. It’s the final week of the tour which is ending in several sold out nights in LA. There’s plenty of hanging around time while Patrick does interviews and promo work, so Pete asks if he can sort through the fanmail. He’s hoping to maybe set up some sort of filing system that’s less vague than ‘Box of Stuff’. Patrick agrees and Pete is glad; it’s another thing that he can get sorted before he finishes working with Patrick, and it’s a day that he and Patrick won’t be working so closely side by side. Pete hopes he can give himself a little bit of breathing space._ _

__So with Patrick’s permission he sets about sorting through all of this beautifully crafted fanwork. He feels a little creepy doing it at first, some of the letters are very personal, some with in depth stories about how Patrick’s music changed a life or even saved it. He skips over most of the very personal details, feeling it a violation of trust between Patrick and his fans, but he skims through most other things, so that he’s able to at least sort the papers out into art and letters and split them by this year and last year._ _

__After a while though, it starts feeling less like a distraction and time away from Patrick, and more like Pete has managed to immerse himself in the love and adoration that other people have for Patrick Stump, all of which he shares, pound for pound. He feels like it’s just highlighting how much he feels for Patrick and how much he cares about him beyond his plain old work duties._ _

__Pete’s heart hurts more than he’d like by the time he’s boxing up the organised art. He keeps a selection out for Patrick to look through, ones that are extra personal and that he thinks Patrick will enjoy (and maybe actually show Patrick the love that his fans have for him, show how amazing people think he is, though Pete doesn’t hold his breath for that)._ _

__His crush on Patrick has unfortunately grown into an astronomical one. He’s become aware of how much he’s actually been in denial all along, because even if it’s grown since they slept together (twice), it’s been far bigger than he’s been wanting to admit, and it’s been tightening its grip since almost their first meeting._ _

__Pete has, of course, now seen Patrick completely naked on more than one occasion, and while Patrick is pretty cautious about baring his skin in regular circumstances (and it doesn’t change after their hook-up even if Pete didn’t really think it would it would), Pete can’t help thinking about it. He watches from the sidelines during a photo shoot for a magazine, and Patrick has to switch from one jacket to another. Patrick slips his pale, bare arms out of the sleeves and Pete has to look away, remembering the softness of his skin and how good it felt to have those arms wrapped tight around him. It’s so over the line and far from appropriate that he has to chide himself silently. Patrick gives him a questioning look and Pete mimes like the phone is ringing so that he can go hide in the hallway for a moment to clear his head._ _

__He watches Patrick on stage and gets hypnotized by how he moves with the music, rolls his hips. And it’s not supposed to be particularly sexual, just part of the show when Patrick loses himself in the beat, but Pete knows how fucking good it feels to have those hips flat against his own, feel them twitch and buck as Patrick writhed against him. Pete thinks about it more than he should, and he’s so glad that the lighting side stage is dim enough that even if Patrick were to tear his eyes from the crowd and look at Pete, the flush on Pete’s face won’t be seen._ _

__When Pete jacks off he thinks of Not Patrick. Anything but Patrick. He watches porn starring big hairy dudes with monster cocks and girls with enormous tits; the polar opposite of anything that’s remotely _Patrick_. He needs to prove to himself that he’s not a weird, creepy creeper thinking about his boss getting down to it when he has his hand around himself. It mostly works, though every now and then the memory of Patrick splayed out underneath him seeps in, and those are the times that he’s overcome with shame afterwards. It feels very unfair to spend so much time working with Patrick and think that way when Patrick hasn’t shown an ounce of interest other than those two times, as far as Pete can tell. _ _

__Though during those times where thoughts of Patrick creep in, Pete usually vows that if he gets the chance to hook up with Patrick again between now and when he leaves he’ll enjoy every second of it and take fucking notes if he has to, so that he can remember every single detail. The rest of the time he promises himself it will never, ever happen again because the fall-out has meant he has to leave his job, and if it happens again it will cut his heart up even more when he inevitably gets rejected once more._ _

__He writes a bit, more than he’s done for the past while, and there’s no prizes for guessing that it’s about Patrick. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s always helped him process. If anyone else were to read it it might just be about a lost love, but when Pete reads back over his words to Patrick about _bottled stars_ , _spinning like a favourite record_ and how he’s _half doomed but Patrick’s semi sweet_ all he can think of is how much it hurts._ _

__When he thinks it through again and again, he’s only ever comes up with two answers. On the one hand, being in such close and personal contact with Patrick on a daily basis, working with him so intimately, has been increasingly difficult for Pete both to maintain normality and to keep from blurting something out, confessing that _Patrick_ is the reason that Pete has to quit, the reason he’s both elated and miserable. _ _

__On the other hand, Pete really fucking doesn’t want to leave, and the closer he gets to his final day, the more he wishes he had the balls to tell Patrick how he feels. It’s a chance to get it all off his chest if nothing else. He daydreams sometimes, wondering what it would feel like if Patrick was into him in the same way, how it would feel to be on the receiving end of actual affection or even love from him. He catches Patrick occasionally giving him these little sideways glances, and Patrick never knows he’s been caught. Pete would love to think that Patrick’s checking him out, thinking about him as something more than just his assistant, but in reality the best case scenario is more likely to be that Pete has been acting weird and Patrick is wondering if he’s okay._ _

__So Pete decides that he can’t possibly tell Patrick, even if he thinks of Mikey’s warning that he _may never know if Patrick feels the same_ quite often, even if he’s probably going to regret it and think of Patrick as the one that got away. But any regret is going to be better than the deep pain of rejection if Patrick were to say that Pete means nothing more to him than being a decent assistant._ _

__*_ _

__“You don’t have to do that.”  
“Sure I do,” Pete says. It might be his last day working with Patrick, but it’s still Pete job to do this shit. And it’s only a coffee run and some packing. Patrick has been sparing with his requests for the last few days leading up to Pete’s final one, and Pete’s not sure if Patrick’s mad that Pete is moving on, or about to revert back to I-don’t-need-an-assistant mode as soon as the meets the new person purely out of stubbornness. Though Pete hopes that Patrick is just being kind and trying to go easy on him._ _

__“You don’t. You can let me go for coffees this time? It’s just a coffee. It’s the least I can do after the thousands I’ve been brought.”_ _

__“If you really want to then knock yourself out, but you know I was getting paid to pick up those coffees?” Pete grins. Not that he hasn’t enjoyed working for Patrick, and not that he doesn’t feel both shy and flattered that Patrick is insisting doing it this time. “I’m still packing for you though. I’ve seen your packing. It’s like a two year old wearing mittens packed, and you know I’ve got mad packing skills.”_ _

__Patrick laughs. “Fine, I’ll admit that you’re a packing ninja.”  
“Damn right.”_ _

__By the time Patrick returns to the hotel room, Pete is finished the packing and he’s sitting in an armchair with his feet tucked up under him. He’s thinking about how odd it feels to have packed up for Patrick for the last time, and how this is the last afternoon that they’re going to spend together seeing as he can’t imagine they’ll stay in touch even if they’ve already said they will._ _

__Much like the past few weeks, he’s fretting today and is wondering again if he’s doing the right thing. He’s resolute though, because there was another moment three days ago where they almost kissed and he knows it’s for the best that nothing happened. It was backstage after one of Patrick’s shows, and they were in the otherwise empty dressing room. They’d been huddled over a comic book discussing whether Iron Man could beat Batman, and the discussion turned into an argument which turned almost heated. They’d stared at each other for a good minute, tension fizzing between them, before Pete had the good sense to change the subject. There had been a slight air of awkwardness afterwards but thankfully due to a hotel night, Pete had been able to retreat and spend an hour in the bath rethinking his life decisions._ _

__It’s done now, though. He’s quit. No turning back. He’s accepted a job as Frank Iero’s own PA - which means he’ll be the PA to the boss of an agency who employs PAs, which feels both hilarious and strange to Pete - and he starts in a week’s time, and he’s going to work there until he figures out what to do next. It’ll be almost the opposite of jet-setting and working for Patrick, but Pete thinks that’s not a bad thing, everything considered. He has a week off before that, and it’s been a while since he’s had that much time on his own, but he owes it to himself to get his head together to move the fuck on from something that never really happened anyway._ _

__Right now he’s so happy to see Patrick, and grateful to take the sugar-filled frappuccino he’s offered. He decides to let himself enjoy the last of this sort of company to its full, take mental snapshots of all the little nuances of Patrick’s personality that show up between now and when they part ways for Patrick go get a flight, and to let himself be unprofessional (again) and watch Patrick the way he would if he was allowed to be interested in him._ _

__“So, do you have things planned for your time off?”  
“Not really,” Pete says. He watches Patrick take a seat on the bed, watches the curve of his bicep when he lifts his cup, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Do nothing. Catch up with some friends. Laundry.” _Get over you._ He’s sure he has a million things to do, but none of them feel super important right now. _ _

__“You live an interesting life,” Patrick teases._ _

__“I do sometimes,” Pete protests. He watches Patrick down the last of his latte from the paper cup and lick the last drip of milk foam from his lip. Pete licks his own lip without meaning to and then realises he should finish his answer. “The interesting part of life for the past while has been following you around, I guess.” It’s a more sombre sentence that the teasing they had begun before, but Pete can’t help it, the words just come out. “Maybe that’s why it’s a good thing I move on to pastures new, you know?”_ _

__“I don’t want you to go.”_ _

__That knocks Pete off his guard because Patrick sounds so adamant, but only momentarily. Pete gets a little fake-smile plastered on his face in no time. It’s best to keep this light hearted. “Don’t worry, Pattycakes. I’m sure your new assistant will be just as good at getting your ass out of bed in the mornings. Your mom might not love them as much as she loves me though,” he grins._ _

__“I don’t want another assistant.”_ _

__Pete holds his tongue and doesn’t say _not this again!_ Because surely by now Patrick actually gets that he needs an assistant?_ _

__“You’ll adapt. There’s some good people with my agency. I’m sure your manager is picking someone out already.”  
“He’s picked someone out. It’s not the point. It’s not gonna to be the same.”_ _

__Pete laughs. "You’ve gone from ’I don’t want an assistant,’ to ‘no one is going to do the job right’! I did my job well, then!”_ _

__“You did do your job very well, but that’s not what I mean.” Patrick looks conflicted for a long second, his face twisted up like he’s fighting himself. “Look,” he says finally. “I’m sorry that what happened between us made it awkward for you. I’ve put it together and I assume that’s why you’re leaving?” Pete stays stock-still, staring wide eyed at him. That’s exactly why Pete is leaving, and his gut wrenches that he’s made it so obvious; he thought he’d been doing well covering it up. “I’m sorry that I let a stupid crush cloud my judgement so much.”_ _

__A bolt of panic runs through Pete. How did Patrick know about the crush? He’d thought he’d been stealthy about it. “A crush?”_ _

__“Yeah,” he says pulling at the sleeve of his shirt. It’s the reaction that Patrick makes in an interview when he’s asked an invasive question that he doesn’t want to answer. He looks back up at Pete briefly and keeps talking, though. “My stupid crush on you got in the way of a really good working relationship. And I get that you don’t want anything like that from me, and that’s fine. But I’m sad that it made you leave. For what it’s worth I’m sorry.” He pauses again and looks Pete dead in the eye as he says, ”But I also don’t think what happened was a mistake.”_ _

__“You don’t.” It’s not a question. Pete doesn’t want to question it in case Patrick takes it back. It’s a fragile statement and a tiny glimmer of hope and Pete doesn’t want to chase it away. If Patrick doesn’t think it was a mistake, and the only reason Pete regrets it is because he thinks Patrick does…then what are they doing here?_ _

__Pete drops his phone like his fingers no longer work for such stupid duties and it bounces off the seat cushions, and before he knows it he’s moving towards Patrick. “I don’t think it was either. I just thought. Because we work together. Because--and I thought--I thought you didn’t want it. Fuck, Patrick.”_ _

__Pete’s fingers find Patrick’s and it’s so much more tentative than the other times they’ve touched like this. He cups his other hand to Patrick jaw, fingers splayed so that he can touch as much of Patrick’s soft skin as he can, and he leans in and kisses him._ _

__With this kiss there’s no panic, no wondering what will happen after, no worrying if there will be consequences or awkwardness or anything else. There’s just Patrick’s mouth and a warm tingle that spreads throughout Pete’s body as Patrick’s lips moves slow and gorgeous against his own._ _

__It’s an awkward angle, Patrick sitting on the bed and Pete standing but leaning over him, and it’s not a position that Pete can hold for long without his bad knee going stiff or getting a crick in his neck. Not that he cares right now, but maybe there’ll be some physical activity coming up soon that he needs to be fit for. He luxuriates in another slow kiss from Patrick and then breaks away to sit beside him instead, keeping contact by making sure their knees touch and holding Patrick’s hand in his._ _

__“So I’ve kind of been having the most inappropriate work place crush ever for the past few months,” Pete says, almost giddy to be able to say it out loud. “I’d been falling for you for ages and I couldn’t believe it when you kissed me back. The whole ‘dipping my pen in the office ink’ phrase has come to mind.”_ _

__Patrick winces at Pete’s colourful saying. “That’s such a cliché!”  
“And sleeping with your assistant isn’t?” Pete grins. _ _

__The most adorable smirk plays on Patrick’s mouth and Pete wants to kiss him again, so he does. “You’ve got me there.”_ _

__"So, you really had a crush on me? But you’re like a famous singer dude with screaming groupies, and I’m the asshole that gets you coffees.” Not that Pete ever thinks of himself as just a coffee gofer, but he can’t quite get his head around the thought that Patrick’s into him._ _

__“It’s more than a crush,” Patrick admits, and Pete stomach might take flight with all those butterflies that have invaded it. “And are you kidding? You’re the only person that’s been looking after me most days, including myself. Besides that, you’re sweet and funny and gorgeous, and even if you’re inappropriate as fuck sometimes, you’ve basically become my favourite person.”_ _

__“Shut the fuck up,” is all that Pete says, but he says it through the biggest grin.  
“I will not,” Patrick grins back.  
“You have to or I’ll end up telling you that I’ve been thinking about you for fucking months, since long before we hooked up. I didn’t even know I was thinking about you in any way other than my sass-mouthed boss until it was too late.”  
“Hey! I don’t have a sassy mouth,” Patrick teases, and Pete can’t not stare at his mouth and then into his eyes._ _

__“Oh, you really fucking do, Stump.” And then Pete takes the opportunity to kiss Patrick’s sassy mouth again, and they lose a half hour to a very horny-teenager-like make-out session. It turns into a slow, horizontal and much more grown-up make-out instead when Patrick waves away the suggestion of completing the last task that Pete has on his schedule under Patrick’s employment. It had been planned to grab a last bite to eat together before Patrick leaves for the airport, but this is so much better._ _

__Pete kisses Patrick slowly, their bodies pressed together but barely moving. The solid warmth of Patrick’s hips and belly and thighs against Pete’s own feels like pure luxury. There’s no rush to undress each other, no rush to jump over every hurdle straight away. Those last times, the speed at which Pete wanted to get off was because he felt like he wouldn’t get to savour it, in case Patrick changed his mind, in case Pete changed his own mind. This, _this_ he could do all day. _ _

__He feels the warm tingle of Patrick’s fingers skimming up his bare arm until it gets to the hem of his tshirt, and then he slowly makes his way down drawing shapes that could be Nightmare characters, could be filthy messages._ _

__The very wonderful slow kissing is spoiled a little when Pete hears his phone vibrate, and he’s almost amused when he realises that it’s the silent alarm he’d set._ _

__“I’m not sure there’s time to continue this. Don’t you have a flight?”  
“You’re going to schedule us?” Patrick asks, teasing both with his voice and with his finger running up and down Pete’s side._ _

__Pete grins as he tilts his head and kisses Patrick again. “You said you like my scheduling. So, fuck you,” he says, but he feels nothing but love.  
Patrick kisses back and hums as he says, “No, how ‘bout we fuck you instead.”_ _

__And, god, if that’s not a complete game-changer. It’s just been kissing so far, with the occasional stroke of a wandering hand, but this makes Pete’s cheeks burn and his heart pound so hard._ _

__“Yes! God, yes.” He rolls his hips against Patrick’s, feels Patrick’s hard on pressing against him and lets out a moan. “Though as much as I’m not your assistant and therefor shouldn’t care if you miss your flight, I’ll still feel vaguely responsible if you do. Should we put a pin in it? I promise I’ll let you fuck me next time.” Pete sends a silent apology to his dick for talking himself out of getting fucked, but maybe the wait will make it better._ _

__“And if I have to go through the airport with blue balls?”_ _

__“Can’t have that,” Pete smirks. He sits himself back up, back onto his heels so that he can look down at Patrick spread out below him. He traces his palm all along Patrick’s waistband and then over his crotch and Patrick closes his eyes with delight with Pete goes to unbuckle the belt. “Let me assist you. I’m super-efficient.”_ _

__"So I've heard."_ _

__As it turns out, Pete is quite efficient. First things first, he undresses them both. Patrick just lies there and lets him, just moving enough to accommodate the removal of his shirt and his pants. Pete leaves their underwear in place, but just for now. He kisses down Patrick’s body, starting with his throat, the pale throat the Pete has thought of licking and burying his face in while Patrick’s been on stage. He can do it now though, so he does, nuzzling a line downwards and Patrick arches and hums._ _

__He catches one pink nipple in his mouth and flicks his tongue over it, and it makes Patrick huff a laugh out, bright and sharp._ _

__“Sensitive nipples,” he explains.  
“Good to know,” Pete says and he goes for the other nipple. “I’m going to learn all your other sensitive spots too, by the way.”_ _

__Pete kisses Patrick again because he just has to, but he lets his hand continue his exploration; Patrick’s nipples again, of course, over the bumps of his ribs, the incredibly soft skin between armpit and his waist, the flesh of his belly. And then it’s into the promised land of Patrick’s underwear. Patrick is responsive to every touch and kiss, and Pete thinks he might be in love with all of the sounds that come out of Patrick’s throat._ _

__Patrick’s only half hard, so when Pete fits his hand around his dick, his can feel it thicken, fill out with blood, and it’s a dizzying feeling to know he’s causing it. He stokes slowly, watching Patrick’s face as he does. He does so until he can feel that Patrick is completely hard, and he mourns again the fact that there’s not enough time to fuck, and he does know this for sure, because he packed for Patrick and he knows they have no supplies._ _

__He’s going to need to get Patrick’s boxers off to make him come, but he has a sudden burst of nerves, and for a second everything seems very big, so he stops to take stock of the situation, to make sure his heart doesn’t beat its way out of his chest._ _

__“Is it weird? I mean we’ve seen each other naked, we’ve done this before. I just-“  
“No, I get it. I feels different.”  
“Yeah.”_ _

__With that out in the open, Pete is less hesitant. He eases his hands into the back of Patrick’s boxers and tugs them down, and then let’s Patrick do the same to him, savouring the feeling as the guitar calluses drag over his ass. He abandons his plan of jerking Patrick off, but just for a second. He smooths both hands over Patrick’s hips and thighs, feels the flesh of them, the soft skin. He’s had a thing for Patrick’s thighs for so long and right now they’re his to play with. Patrick’s inner thighs feel even nicer than the outside areas - softer, more tender - and they come with the added bonus of Patrick making gorgeous breathy moans._ _

__The breathy little moans become more like requests when they turn into cut off words like and _Touch me_. Pete can’t argue with that, and if he spends much more time indulging himself in Patrick’s thighs there may not be time for an orgasm for himself, and then he might actually keel over and die from his own blue balls._ _

__“On it.” He braces himself over Patrick so that they can kiss, and sets to work jerking Patrick off in earnest. Patrick clings on, kisses him back with that wet, gorgeous mouth, and when Patrick can’t keep any sort of rhythm with his kissing any more, Pete fits his mouth to Patrick’s neck and kisses his pulse, his throat, nibbles his earlobe, murmurs into his skin how gorgeous he is._ _

__Patrick coming undone is a sight to be seen. His pale skin gets sweaty and turns flushed, his normally blue eyes are dark with desire, and he pants like he can’t take it. When he comes he’s almost silent, just a whimper and heavy, heavy breaths, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he spurts all over Pete’s hand and his own stomach._ _

__Patrick lies with his eyes closed, murmuring and trying to catch his breath, and fuck does he look gorgeous, sweaty and sated. Pete wipes his hand on the bedsheets, but not before lifting his knuckle to his lips to taste the musk that he can already smell so strongly. It’s intoxicating and it makes him wish he’d gone down on Patrick instead._ _

__Pete’s still hard, he’s so hard, so he gives himself a squeeze and Patrick catches him. “Hey, let me.”_ _

__Pete straddles Patrick’s hips, leans down for a kiss and lets Patrick shake him apart, stroke by stroke, fast and steady, talking him through it with that angelic voice that feels like a balm right now. Pete comes with a cry against Patrick’s neck and his hand fisted into the pillow._ _

__Afterwards there’s kisses, shy, sweet kisses, and Pete would like to lock the door and spread himself over Patrick like a blanket so that they could stay here forever, but he knows they can’t. Patrick took the toll of their afternoon delight, ending up by far the messiest, and he has to fly. Pete’s inner PA takes over as he starts to clean them up._ _

__“Time to get a move on,” he says, though it’s tinged with sadness that their afternoon is over, rather than the regret of leaving his time with Patrick with so much unsaid between them that he thought he would be leaving with today._ _

__“Are we late?”  
“Not if we hurry. I’ll call the driver and stall him. Go shower. I’ll clean up in here. As my last act as your assistant, I will get you to the airport on time, Stump.”  
“No shower for you?”_ _

__Pete can’t tell if that’s an invite to join in the shower or not, but there’s no time for that either, sadly. “I’ll live. I don’t have to get on a flight. I get a ride home to a shower. You need to be, like, presentable, and not smelling of sex. Shower. Go.”  
“Bossy,” Patrick says with a raised eyebrow._ _

__Pete grins and leans in close. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Patrick.” He switches to a stage whisper. “I like it better when you’re in change.”_ _

__Patrick smirks the tiniest of smirks. He leans in so that his lip tickles the shell of Pete’s ear. “I’ll have to remember that.” It sends a shiver and a thrill through Pete that lasts long after Patrick’s bare ass disappears into the bathroom._ _

__The elevator doors open into the lobby and they take a step out, Pete pulling Patrick’s case behind him. He _insisted_ on it, and Patrick just laughed at him, said he’s silly and then let him do it anyway. Pete’s case is safely in his own room, where he can retrieve it after Patrick’s gone. He’s in no rush, heading home to his own apartment. He’d cancelled the car that had been ordered to collect him in favour of grabbing a cab in his own time. His priority is saying goodbye to Patrick because even if they’ve had a big admission of sickly-sweet feelings for each other, Patrick is a busy man and Pete probably won’t see him for several weeks (which is total shit)._ _

__“So, you’re going to be working in LA now.”  
“I am,” Pete says. “A nine-to-five job, no less. “ He slips his hand into Patrick’s as they walk across the lobby, and feels so unbelievably happy to be able to do it.   
“And you’ve been in charge of my schedule for the past while, so you know that I’ll be here for a couple weeks at the end of the month.”  
“I am aware of that, yeah,” Pete says. He knows where this is heading and he likes it. “So if I’m in LA and you’re in LA-“  
“Then we’ll both be in LA,” Patrick says, and he looks so fucking shy and adorable that Pete’s heart might explode. “So, we should maybe have a real date?”_ _

__“Are you asking me out? Patrick Stump is asking me out?” Pete all but squeals, and it turns into an _oof_ when Patrick elbows him in the ribs.  
“I might be asking you out.”  
“I might say yes.”_ _

__Patrick grins. “Well, good.”  
“So, it’s a date then.”_ _

__Pete knows they are in minus figures for how many minutes they have to say goodbye to each other, but he doesn’t want to go yet._ _

__“I’m going to go now. It’s been a pleasure working with you, spending time with you. Tell your new assistant not to take a leaf out of my book and fall for the boss. He’s a super awesome boss though, so I could understand it.”_ _

__Patrick pushes his glasses up his nose and looks like he’s trying to be serious. “Thank you for your time and help and everything else. I’m glad to have worked with you.”  
“This is really fucking cheesy,” Pete confesses, giggling.  
“Yeah, it is.” Patrick glances behind him to the door, and Pete knows they’re done for now. “Look, I’ll call you when I land, okay?”  
“Right. Safe flight.” Pete thinks he’ll probably have texted Patrick six times by the time he’s landed. He can think of three texts already._ _

__There’s a slightly lingering kiss on the cheek from Pete, and an embrace that lasts far too long for an employee-employer relationship. Pete holds on for that extra second though and breathes Patrick in trying to commit the smell of leather-shampoo-skin to memory. Pete knows that it’s so much more than just a silly old work relationship now, more than a crush, it’s so much more, even if this is the very beginning of a new thing for them._ _

__There’s smiles and a shy little wave, and then they part. Pete feels awkward as hell as Patrick walks away, and he rubs at the back of his neck trying to figure out how to stand and look like a normal person, and not punch the air and jump and whoop like he wants to._ _

__Pete stands around outside the hotel with his hands in his pockets as he watches the car get further away, and then turn out of sight. He pulls out his phone and makes a call._ _

__“Mikes. What’s up?”  
“Hey, Pete. How’d your last day go?”  
“I talked to him. I talked to Patrick. We talked.” He keeps his voice level, not giving anything away just yet. “Are you around if I swing by? Wanna grab a coffee?  
“Aw, man. Did it go okay? Is this a tale of woe?” _ _

__

__Pete grins down the phone when he thinks of his afternoon with Patrick and how his heart is full of not-so-unreciprocated-love. “No, Mikey. This story has a happy ending.”_ _

__END_ _


End file.
